Never Surrender
by Pantherlily
Summary: The honeymoon is over. Sherlock and John head back to London. Only...things don't got as planned...at all... Part five in a Johnlock series. Takes place shortly after 'Alone With You' ends. It would be extremely helpful to read the first four, although some of the previous stories are pretty long.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Part five in the Johnlock series. I am going to assume you have already read the other ones if you are reading this one.

* * *

Flashing lights. That was odd. So odd. And the panicked look from Sherlock twisted his gut. Then black. Smoke. Screaming, crying and twisted metal. Shit. _Shit_. Nightmare. John quickly opened his eyes, panting and struggling for breath before he realized it wasn't a nightmare. Nothing but rocks, a makeshift shelter above his head and the sound of waves. Right.

Plane crash. Island. He glanced around the small camp of people who had survived the crash. Another young couple curled up to their right, a young business woman just south of them, and a little boy, no older than five, sleeping as close to Sherlock as he could manage without leaving the small shelter John had made for him. This was all real. He sighed and fell back against the ground with a shaky sob, turning to press his face into his husband's back.

Flickering lights. Smoke. Screaming. Someone was screaming for his help. A woman with her son. She was crushed and won't be able to get out in time. She was begging him to take her son. He was about to ask his husband for help but he had already lost his partner in the fray of confusion and panic. The child fought, screamed, and bit. The boy didn't want to leave his mother. The swim to shore was hard work, even though the boy had worn himself out and stopped thrashing. He wasn't a strong swimmer but he got them there safely. Everything else was hazy, the boy clinging to him constantly and tightly. Shaking. Someone was shaking him. Sherlock woke up slowly. "John?" His eyes came into focus and it is the little boy.

"Mister. Hungry," the little boy whined.

That was a voice. John cleared his throat as quietly as he could manage, peeking over his husband's torso to study the boy. "I will get it," he whispered to Sherlock, placing a soft kiss between his partner's shoulder blades and patting his hip gently. "C'mon." He sat up slowly. Food was low, a mainly fish diet when they managed to get any, but he knew they had some and he could give up his breakfast portion for the boy. "I will get you some of the fish from dinner, is that all right mate?" He was bleary eyed and struggling to get sleep out of his system.

The boy turned and stared blankly at John, clearly only half listening. He turned his attention back to Sherlock and poked him. "Mister, I'm hungry."

Apparently the child had become Sherlock's responsibility the moment he saved the boy. He groaned and sat up slowly. "All right, all right. What's your name? And quit calling me 'mister.' Sherlock is fine."

The boy shifted from foot to foot nervously. "That's a stupid name," he muttered and kicked at the ground.

Damn it. John glared at the boy for a moment. Sherlock needed to rest and this boy was ruining it. "Right. Sherlock needs to sleep, why don't I help you?" He was, after all, in charge of food and hunting. If the boy wanted food off schedule then it was _his_ job. Especially because he was willing to give up his breakfast. Sherlock needed to eat, he could survive until lunch. "Just...stay here," he grumbled as he stood up and headed through a few trees toward their food hold.

The boy stuck out his tongue at John as soon as his he left.

"Hey. None of that. You will apologize when he gets back or you won't eat." Sherlock felt like shit. He hadn't realized it, but he had been unconscious for two days. John appeared to be in charge. No surprise there. He had been a Captain in the military for a reason.

"But he is mean!" The boy pouted and crossed his arms.

Sherlock tried not to smirk. "You never did tell me your name."

"Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald." The boy stood proud, his chest puffed out as if it was the most important name ever.

John returned a few minutes later with a small slice of fish, handing it to the boy with a forced smile. After a few moments he dropped to his knees in front of Sherlock. "How are you?" He asked as he looked his husband over. Nothing too bad, just exhausted. John had kept watch over Sherlock day and night, only going out of view if he knew somebody else would be near. "Saved some of your clothes," he muttered. He had forgone anything to hold him down, clad in only a pair of jean shorts that he ad torn himself. "Your jacket, too. It's our blanket." He dropped his head and sighed before looking back over to the boy. "That is all you get until breakfast," he stated sternly.

Sherlock reached over and grabbed the fish before the boy could take a bite. "What did I tell you?"

"But! That isn't fair!" Thomas was pouting again.

"You must not be very hungry then." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, fighting a smirk. God, he was going to make terrible parent. He couldn't keep a stern face when so amused.

The boy let out long suffering sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry. There. Eat now?"

"What are you sorry for?" Sherlock wasn't going to relinquish the food so easily.

"Sorry for sticking my tongue out at you when you wasn't lookin'." Thomas looked at John briefly before taking the food offered greedily and gobbled it quickly.

Sherlock shook his head and finally answered his husband's question. "I am fine. How are provisions? Has anyone found the wreckage site? Or tried diving to the cargo bay of the plane?"

John smiled a bit at the exchange between Sherlock and the boy before looking at his husband. "I went out twice but it is too deep to get to. I got some of your stuff. Coat, scarf, a couple sets of clothes." He nodded and curled his knees to his chest. Precautions he hadn't taken. He had a single set of clothes and his black jacket. He had been more focused on grabbing anything he could for his husband. It took him a moment but he tore his eyes from Sherlock to glance at the small boy, eyes narrowed despite the darkness. He was already tan, muscles a bit more defined after a few days of hunting and building shelters. "Kelly, the lad over there with her new husband, Kevin." He glanced at them. "She is pregnant. I have been giving her most of my portions and so has he." His eyes moved to the business woman. "And that is Maria. She has a family back home. Four kids." He smiled a bit before looking at his husband. "And apparently we have got him," he said softly.

Sherlock took a moment to look over the group John had pointed out. "Thought pregnant woman weren't supposed to fly," he murmured more to himself than anyone else. His gaze shifted to Thomas, who had run down to the shore to chase birds. "Lucky us, I guess. He is very…hmmm…rude. Apparently I have a penchant for picking up strays." He looked up to his husband with a small smirk. "Has anyone gone to look for things that might have washed up on shore? If the wind patterns have been the same since crashing, they should all have washed up in more than less one spot. I would say a mile, maybe two miles from us. As far as which direction, my best guess would be down the eastern strip of the beach."

"Yes. Not much. Scraps of clothing. Did find this, this morning." John turned and lifted his jacket up, lifting up his dog tags and Sherlock's wedding ring. "Must have lost them in the wreck." He grinned as he dropped them over his husband's head and then glanced back at the little boy. "She is only two months along so really no harm done," he said back to his husband's first comment. "What is his name, then? I mean, his Mum died. He told me a bit about himself but not his name." He glanced up at the sky. Almost morning which meant work for the day would start. Check the traps for fish with Kevin. Find birds and try to kill them. Cook. Start a fire. Continue to build onto the shelters. He groaned just thinking about it.

That was unfortunate. Sherlock had thought more would have washed ashore than just that. At least he still had John's dog tags and his wedding band. "Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald and he seemed very proud of that name. Probably from a family with money, which makes sense since he was traveling on a small jet for rich people." He shrugged a bit and finally stood. He ignored the spell of dizziness and the overall weakness he felt in his knees. Things needed to be done and he didn't want to just sit around doing nothing. He leaned against the shelter, closing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

John stood up instantly. "Two days. Sit back down." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and motioned back toward their small shelter. "You have got a day to rest. I will feed you. I've been saving some of my food and clean water." He stood on his toes and gently met his husband's lips. Damn, he had missed that. Missed a lot of things. "You are weak. We really can't afford for you to push yourself right now, all right? Everybody needs to be healthy. When you are you can help us with the shelters. I figure your massive brain will be able to give us some pointers." He smiled the best he could. "Now sit."

Sherlock sighed but did as John asked. His husband was right, even if he didn't like. "Make the boy help then. I am sure he can useful for something other than complaining and chasing birds." He looked down the shore at Thomas. "Hey, Tommy!" Kids liked nicknames didn't they? "Get up here and help!"

Thomas looked up with a scowl. "Hate that name! Dun call me that!" He huffed out a puff an air indignantly but came running like asked.

John narrowed his eyes a moment. Calm. Stay calm. Sherlock didn't know the rules of their camp yet. "Don't yell," he whispered as he moved his coat a bit further and grabbed some fish wrapped in a few leaves. "It is still time to sleep. 'Bout an hour left, I reckon, before we need to do anything. But make sure he doesn't wander off." He handed the fish to his husband with a quick kiss to his cheek, turning to look at Thomas. The kid wouldn't be much help, really. Too small and weak to do much. "Just...don't wander off, yeah?" He looked at the boy with a small smile. "Don't want you to get hurt."

Sherlock arched a brow. Had he done something wrong? Apparently yelling wasn't allowed. How…strange… "When I was his age, I was doing useful things," he muttered more to himself than John.

"I can do things too!" Thomas pouted. "Not an idiot." He ran away again, this time picking up rocks and throwing them into the sea as far and hard as he could.

If there ever was a spitting image of Sherlock at age five, John was fairly sure it was Thomas. He shook his head to focus more on his husband. "It is fine. We are a small group but we manage. Less to feed, all that." He sat down next to Sherlock, an arm wrapping around the middle of his husband's back. "I love you," he whispered softly as he leaned into him. God, he was warm and felt wonderful. Probably because he had more clothes on. "I don't think Mycroft can get us out of this," he whispered softly, his voice breaking a bit.

Sherlock smiled and gave John a quick kiss. "Love you too." He was quiet for a moment. "Well, there was some sort of problem with one of the engines and they were trying to make an emergency landing. Which failed obviously. There are only so many islands that don't have a population in the Mediterranean to check. Knowing Mycroft he won't give up until he checks them all. I figure it is only a matter of time before they find us. Now, how long that will take is a tough estimate. No longer than one month I don't think. So, as long as we can survive that long we will be fine."

A month. That made John's stomach drop. In a month they could all die. Weather, anything. He nodded and handed the fish over to Sherlock. "Eat it. From last night. We all agreed to save a bit of our rations for you. Been a while since you have eaten and I am sure we've got a few more fish in the traps this morning," he whispered. He didn't want to think about the wreck or how they ended up here. He was a soldier in Afghanistan and that was nothing compared to crashing into the water, seeing people die... He cleared his throat and let his eyes shut. It wouldn't do any good to get scared now. People were depending on him. "When you are done there is a small inlet of water just a few meters away where you can bathe. It is a bit less salty so it will do something."

"No worries my Love. We can get through this, just like everything else." Sherlock gave John another kiss. He was a little hungry, so he decided to humor his husband and ate the fish given to him. He did fell a bit better after eating. He stood again, staying steady on his feet this time.

Thomas saw Sherlock stand and ran back over. "Where ya goin'? Can I come? Can I? _Please_? They never lemme leave camp! Not fair!"

A small smirk formed on Sherlock's lips. "I'm just going to wash up, nothing exciting."

Thomas kicked the dirt and then eyed the fish John had been rolling in leaves.

"Right. Don't eat the fish. Everybody else needs to eat this morning," John said softly but sternly. "Just lay back down and rest for a bit and today you can come hunting, yeah?" He studied Thomas for a moment before standing up and grabbing his husband's hand. He had been dying to be alone with Sherlock, just to kiss him and hold him close. That little brat wasn't going to ruin it. He gave his husband's hand a small tug and they headed inland, a small river coming into view. "Bit deep near the middle, I can barely touch but you will be fine," he said softly before turning and gently meeting his husband's lips. God, he had missed kissing Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around John, pulling his husband closer to him. His fingers trailed along his partner's back soothingly. Only something like this could happen to them. Right after their honeymoon nonetheless. No time to worry or think about that now. He was kissing John and that was much more enticing than dwelling on how badly things seemed to go for them all the time.

John slowly pulled away to take a breath, gazing up at his husband. The sun was slowly coming up and the light behind Sherlock made him look like a God. He giggled softly at his thoughts. No need to tell his husband that, he would get a bigger ego. "C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and wash you up a bit, yeah?" He undid the remaining buttons of Sherlock's shirt and easily rid him of the pants, backing into the river and bringing his husband with him. They couldn't shag, they didn't have anything and it was likely they'd get caught. But damn it he was going to spend some quality time with his husband.

Sherlock smirked. "Anxious to get my clothes off are you my dear doctor?" The smirk got bigger as he followed John into the water. It wasn't too bad temperature-wise. He began kissing his husband again, pressing their bodies together closely. One hand dropped to grope John through the pants, pawing lightly at the outlining of his husband's cock. Of course the first thing he wanted to do when he woke up was shag John. They couldn't. Not without some kind of lubricant, but he could at least give his husband a hand job.

John gasped into his husband's mouth, swallowing hard. "Oh, fuck." He slammed his eyes shut. He hadn't been touched since their honeymoon and given their recent activities two days was quite the wait. God, he needed to get his shorts off. He pulled away from the kiss to glance between them, his hands moving to sloppily pull his shorts off. "Hold on," he muttered, wading out of the water. He couldn't get his clothes wet, they were the only set he had. He yanked down his shorts and boxers before running back into the water, pressing himself against Sherlock with a loud moan. Might as well return the favor, right? He grabbed his husband's cock and gave it a small squeeze.

Sherlock smirked as he watched John and pressed into his husband's hand with a moan. "Oh God yes. Love you," he murmured into John's ear and then immediately began sucking on it. His free hand began scratching lightly at his husband's back, while the other went back to John's penis. He gripped it firmly and began giving it swift strokes. He pressed their bodies as closely together as he could, his hips bucking into his husband with a whimper.

"Love you, too," John replied shakily, taking several deep breaths as he started strokes that kept in time with Sherlock's. This. Being close, this is what he had missed. He'd been scared, too, that Sherlock would never wake up, that they would never be close like this again. Just the thought made his stomach twist and he groaned, pressing his hips roughly into his husband's hand. He didn't want to be quick but they didn't have a choice. The camp would be waking up soon and with their luck that little brat would tell everybody where they went.

Sherlock stopped sucking on John's ear and decided that he needed to be kissing his husband some more. He pressed their lips together, taking a moment to suck on John's tongue before relinquishing it and going to explore the rest of the mouth. He moaned into the kiss, the strokes getting faster in his excitement. God, he really wanted to be inside his husband right now. He was determined to find a way to shag while they were here.

John's kiss was sloppy, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to keep his moans quiet. God, even after two days of sleeping his husband was bloody fantastic. He picked up the pace as Sherlock did, moaning slightly into his husband's mouth with each stroke. Not much longer. He had been inactive, so focused on staying alive and keeping everybody healthy that he'd never stopped to just think about himself. He sucked at Sherlock's tongue with a small whimper.

Sherlock moaned into John's mouth as he came. He used his husband for support, his body going a bit limp. He continued the kiss, breathing loudly through his nose now. The hand scratching down the back, trailed down to John's ass where he gave it a firm and tight squeeze. He couldn't keep his hands to himself right now. He wanted to continue the closeness as long as possible.

John came almost immediately after Sherlock, breathing deeply through his nose before he heard a cough and...damn it. He blushed, pulling away from his husband and turning to see Kevin. Shit, this was..._very_ awkward.

"Sorry, mate," the young man cleared his throat and dropped his head, his shaggy brown hair following a bit. "We've got...fish, y'know? Just wanted to..." He shrugged, blushed as his brown eyes lifted to study Sherlock, and then turned and went back toward the main camp.

"Oh... God," John was still for a moment before he started to laugh, looking up at Sherlock with a large smile. "That was good. Not what I was expecting."

Sherlock smirked proudly at Kevin when their eyes met briefly. He was not in the least bit perturbed at being caught. "Very good. Sorry. I can't seem to keep my hands off of you. You are just so _adorable_." Maybe if he told John that enough times, his husband would actually come to believe it. It was possible, he supposed. He had changed how John saw the scars on his husband's body. "Could have been worse, the boy could have seen us." He smirked down at John.

"Oi, that boy," John whispered as he gave Sherlock a quick kiss. "Won't listen to anybody, except you, apparently." He smiled a bit. He had missed Sherlock's voice, that little smirk on his lips. Two days had been too much and even on this blasted island in the middle of nowhere Sherlock could brighten his day just a bit. "Not adorable," he added with a playful thrust of his hips, some water splashing around them. "I was so scared when we crashed," his voice was soft now, serious, and a hand moved to run gently down his husband's chest. "I couldn't find you and you beat me to shore and... God, I just collapsed and cried when I found you."

Sherlock smirked again but it turned into a frown as he listened to John. "I'm sorry I worried you. I don't know how we go separated. I heard the woman sitting behind us screaming for help. She begged me to take the boy. I had to pry Thomas off of her. He didn't want to leave and he fought me all the way. He finally had enough sense to calm down when we got into open water, but it was still difficult to swim with us both. I'm still not a very strong swimmer…" He trailed off with a shrug. "I am fine now Love. We both are. No worries." He kissed the top of his husband's head.

Fine now. They were both alive and safe. John smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, we are," he placed a soft kiss against his husband's chest and managed to pull him a bit closer. "You are alive and safe and...you saved a life," he whispered. Sure, it was the life of a brat, but he'd swam back twice and managed to get Kelly, who wasn't a swimmer at all, and Maria, who was trying to save as many clothes as she could. "The camp is pretty simple," he started. The least he could do was update his husband on the rules they had established. "Kelly and Maria gather fire wood, Kevin and I hunt. I have built all the shelters and Thomas has done a great job of making sure the fire is constantly going. We go to bed with the sun, rise with it. Only way to really tell which day is which." He looked up at Sherlock with a weak smile. "We could use some help, the shelters aren't staying up."

"Architecture and infrastructure aren't really my forte but I will see if I can come up with something. I am sure I can, being perfect and amazing after all." Sherlock smirked at John and led them back to the shore so they could get dressed and start the day. It seemed like everything was on a set time table and he didn't want to disrupt the things his husband had set up. People needed rules and regulations; otherwise there would be panic and chaos. Not good when survival was vital. "You have done well here. I'm proud of you."

John blushed as he slipped his boxers and shorts back on, clearing his throat. "I...what else could I do? They were all scared, crying...I have dealt with it before." He dropped his head and dug his bare foot into the sand. "Did it for you, really, to make sure everything was good when you woke up." A small, lop-sided smile tugged at his lips and he moved forward, grabbing his husband's hand. He hadn't really made himself the leader but the three adults who had been awake had agreed on it one night around the fire while eating. Thomas had stayed quiet. "I am on watch tonight, though. You can sleep. I have got to see if a boat or plane comes by."

Sherlock opted to only put his briefs and trousers on. It would get warmer later in the day and he would probably just take the shirt off later anyway. He threw the shirt over his shoulder, two fingernails hooked under it. "While rescue is important, you should also look for possible dangers here on the island. Wild boars, poisonous snakes, that kind of thing. John, I probably won't sleep again for awhile. So, if you want to sleep you can. Or we can stay awake together and keep each other company."

Company. John nodded slightly and narrowed his eyes. "The island is mainly sand. Rocks, few trees on the south end. We have only really found birds. Caught one the other day and cooked it." He shrugged and laced his fingers with Sherlock's. "Our main worry is food and getting rescued. If you want to keep me company you can. I can't just drop a post like that, not while everybody else has done their own." He started bringing them back to camp, passing a small rocky area where food and leaves were spread out. "That is the food area. Anything we catch or find goes there. If you are hungry you need to ask since we have got rations. I can give you some of mine so don't worry." He nodded and glanced at the rest of the camp as it came into view. Maria and Kelly were down by the shore talking and laughing a bit and Kevin, bless his heart, was standing by his and Kelly's shelter with an enormous blush on his face.

Sherlock was taking in all the different things around him, his mind automatically analyzing things that would be of the most use. He was only half listening to John now, as he began to lose himself in his mind palace, where all kinds of information was stored. He hadn't gone there in a while and it was taking him longer than usual to access the information he wanted. "I probably won't eat or sleep much. The boy can have my rations," he said distractedly. He was looking at the crude shelters than had been built and was working on a way to improve them.

That look was unmistakable and John hadn't seen it in a while. Mind palace. He smiled a bit and squeezes his husband's hand before pulling away slightly. He didn't reply to Sherlock's comment because his husband would have to eat, there was no way around it. Maybe if he fed it to Sherlock? He glanced at Kevin and laughed a bit. "C'mon, mate. Let's go check the traps." He stood on his toes and placed a small kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Be back soon, Love." And with that headed toward the shore.

Sherlock nodded, John's words barely registering at this point. He was accessing all useful plants found in this particular region. Hunting was good but not reliable. Plants would be a much easier way to find food. One merely had to know what to look for, which he did. "Hey boy. Come on. I'll teach you few things and we will make use out of you yet."

"But I was told I could go hunting if I was good!" Thomas frowned as he realized John had already left.

"Fine, stay here and be bored." Sherlock shrugged and walked away.

"W-wait!" Thomas ran to catch up with Sherlock.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

Survival fic! Thought it would be more exciting if you found out on your own? Hope you all will like it as much as the others! Also, thank you so much to everyone left reviews!

* * *

It took John and Kevin at least an hour to check all of the traps, returning with six fish. Definitely the best catch since they arrived. He dropped the fish into their food hold before turning to his companion. "Sorry... 'bout earlier," he said softly but Kevin just nodded and laughed.

"Fine. It is fine, really. We all have urges and you hadn't done much since we landed." He smiled a bit and turned back to his wife who was slowly standing to collect the firewood with Maria.

"Thanks, mate." John patted Kevin on the back and turned to find Sherlock. It shouldn't be too hard, really. Especially with the boy in tow. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock had spent about fifteen minutes showing Thomas where common things like grapes and almonds would be to harvest. He kept the boy in view while he worked on using reeds and cattails by the inlet, also edible, into what would be best described as a basket. He was attaching a vine a strong, firm vine as a handle when he heard John calling for him. "Over here by the inlet." He waved a hand before going back to work. "The boy is over there making himself useful. I am having him gather grapes and almonds and putting them in that area you showed me. He can't carry a lot but it keeps him busy, but it is also why I am making this." He shook the crude object in his hand. Not perfect but it would do, functionality was all that really matter.

Jesus. John froze the moment he saw everything. Why had Sherlock been asleep the past two days? His stomach twisted because apparently he wasn't as resourceful as he thought. Right. "Grapes and almonds?" He muttered with a raised brow, squatting next to his husband. "We caught six fish so that is dinner. Depending on how many grapes the brat finds we might have a massive dinner." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "I might go hunting again and try to get a bird. We had one the other night and it was amazing."

Sherlock smirked proudly. "That is just the easy stuff for the kid to find. In this region we should also be able to find arrowroots, bearberries, carob trees, jujube, orach and sea orach. The reeds and cattails are also edible but I thought they would be better put to use for crafting. They should also help strength the shelters and less likely to fall down. The boy isn't so bad you know. He just needed a little direction and people to stop treating him as a useless mouth to feed." He shrugged a bit and stood up. "So, I am thinking of a teaching lesson so everyone knows what is safe to pick and eat. Doing it as a group is more efficient."

"Uh, sure. Yeah. Do you want to tell them, then? We could do it tonight at the fire." John cleared his throat. Why was his stomach twisting? Nothing was wrong. Was he...jealous of Sherlock's knowledge? Scared that he would lose the position of leader he had gained? He cleared his throat. "We've tried working with him, Sherlock but he just stayed by your side and waited for you to wake up." He licked his lips. "You can teach Maria and Kelly. Kevin and I will stick to hunting," he added as a bit of an afterthought.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at John. "Is everything okay?" Shouldn't his husband be happy that fish wouldn't be the only food source and better shelters could be made? He seemed upset for some reason.

"Mister, Mister! I dinn't eat any, like you asked! I did good!" Thomas came running up, grinning happily but it fell as soon as he saw John.

"Hmm?" John raised his eyebrows and nodded quickly. "Yeah. Of course. Yeah. Everything's fine." He smiled a bit. Apparently he was a bit more readable than he thought. "Just happy we have more food options," he trailed off as Thomas came running back. That kid obviously didn't like him. What the hell had he done? "Right. I am going to go find a bird," he muttered as he ran his fingers lightly across his husband's shoulders and disappeared into the few trees around them.

Sherlock frowned thoughtfully at John as he watched his husband leave. Something was bothering his partner he could tell just by the way John carried himself when leaving. Maybe they could talk about it later. Weren't they both supposed to be working harder at making their relationship better and talk about things? He was brought out of his thoughts by the boy speaking.

"He doesn't like me…" Thomas muttered, eyes staring at the ground.

"Hmm? Why do you say that?" Sherlock asked, with slightly raised eyebrows.

"He calls me 'brat' when he don't think Imma there…but I heard 'im…" Thomas sniffled and then ran back to the camp so he wouldn't cry in front of Sherlock. Big boys didn't cry. Mum would be furious if she caught him crying…except Mummy wasn't here anymore… He curled into the shelter, pretending to be sleeping, silent tears streaking down his face.

Two hours later John dropped two birds into the food hold, tossing his makeshift spear beside his and Sherlock's shelter. He was splattered with some blood and moved slowly to shore, washing himself off while talking to Kelly. She laughed a few times and he grinned before moving back toward the shelter. The sun was straight above them. Noon. He sighed and stood in the middle of the beach, head titled up and eyes closed.

Sherlock went around picking anything he could find that was useful, placing the items in the basket he had made. He made sure to get the full plant of each, so he could show everyone what they looked like when the time came. When the basket was full, he put it with the rest of the provisions. He kept the whole version of each plant with him, to take back to camp. He came back in time to see John talking to Kelly. She was laughing. No reason to be jealous. Just some friendly conversation. He sighed, dropped the items near the shelter they were using and trudged back to the reeds and cattails. They would be needed to make the collapsing structures a little more sturdy.

John opened his eyes after a few minutes and glanced around camp. Kevin and Kelly were sleeping, which they needed, and Maria was gathering firewood. He decided to try and find Sherlock. It didn't take him long, granted the island wasn't massive, and he gently placed a hand on his husband's lower back. "Want some help?" He smiled softly and found a few cattails, holding them for a moment. "Didn't mean to get upset earlier," he muttered. "I was just jealous. I don't know why, I just...I felt threatened because I have been in charge." There, he had said it. Communication.

Sherlock heard John coming but didn't turn around until his husband had started speaking. "Well, then I guess we are even. I got jealous of you talking to Kelly. It was stupid really." He sighed with a shrug. With the way things were going this was going to end up in a fight, wasn't it? Would changing the subject help? "Thomas thinks you hate him." There. Conversation averted away from them and onto the boy. Would it help though?

"I thought he hated me," John replied softly. So they were going to avoid talking about themselves? He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and shrugged. "I will talk to him tonight if he lets me. We don't need anybody hating each other right now." He smiled the best he could and leaned over, giving Sherlock a gentle kiss. "Don't be jealous. It is always you."

"He heard him refer to him as a 'brat' a few times it would seem. I think you hurt his feelings." Sherlock shrugged a bit. He managed to give John a small smile and then embraced him in a hug. "I know." He clung to his husband for awhile but finally released the other man. "We need to be careful about how much we take, only enough for the day. Too much and it will spoil and disappear too quickly. This island isn't very big."

John closed his eyes as he relaxed against his husband before he pulled away. "I...yeah. I will talk to him," he muttered softly. He stopped picking and nodded a bit and looked around. "I caught two birds so we will have a big dinner," he paused. A blush was spreading over his cheeks. "I thought we could find something to hold fish oil. It is slippery and we could," he cut himself off and cleared his throat with a small nod.

Sherlock followed John's train of thought easily. "Oh God yes. We are going to find a way damn it." He smirked at his husband, and then returned back to serious conversation. "We need clay to mold and dry but…like you said, it just mostly sand and rocks here. With clay we would be able to make bowls, cups and other useful things. There might be some in the bottom of the inlet, but I haven't had the time to check yet."

"There might be, yeah," John muttered softly with a nod. "We have been using rocks as plates and just eating with our hands. Wet sticks over the fire to cook the meat," he looked over at Sherlock and smiled softly. They were together. That was what mattered. "I am not forcing anything on you, all right? But you need to eat some tonight. We have enough food and all the work today is going to wear you out." He reached a hand out to run his fingers along the line between his husband's pant line. "I think I might talk to Thomas." He met Sherlock's gaze hesitantly.

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "If I am hungry, I will eat." They weren't going to have this fight again were they? The first month marriage had been awful and it wouldn't be a good idea to get into again while they were stranded on deserted island. Thomas. Right, the boy. "That would be good. He just lost his mother and is stuck with a bunch of strangers. Probably just scared and acting out." He could relate to the last part, because it was exactly what he had done as a child.

John forced himself to stay quiet. If he fed Sherlock, made it romantic, then they would be set. He shifted slightly on his feet before leaning forward and softly meeting his husband's lips. "I love you, Sherlock," he whispered before moving to place both of his hands on Sherlock's ass, pulling him forward. Things already felt tense between them and he hated it. Their honeymoon had fixed things and they were starting to fall apart.

Sherlock returned the kiss, and then rested his head against John's. "I don't want to fight, please." They were supposed to be working on making their relationship better. He didn't want to fall back into stupid, petty fights. They were better than this. _Stronger_. The honeymoon had been proof of that. Things were just…hard right now and making things tense between them.

"No fighting," John whispered in response, his gaze locked on Sherlock. "We are just fine. We will be, I promise." He smiled slightly and took a deep breath. "We can talk tonight while I am on watch. I'm going to go talk to Thomas." After another parting kiss and a glance back at Sherlock he moved back to camp, sitting in front of the boy's shelter. "Thomas," he said softly.

Sherlock smiled as he watched John go and then returned to the task of gathering reeds and cattails for the shelters.

Thomas had cried himself to sleep and he woke up red cheeked and groggily from John's voice. He frowned when he saw who it was. "I didn't do nuffin! I been right here!" He stood up quickly, breathing in out of his nose causing his little chest to rise and fall heavily.

John looked up at him with a small frown. "Shh, you aren't in trouble." He stayed sitting and managed a bit of a smile. "I wanted to apologize, Thomas. I shouldn't have called you anything. So I'm sorry." He shifted slightly into his and Sherlock's camp, grabbing his husband's scarf and gently wiping at the boy's cheeks.

Oh. It was weird to hear an adult apologize. Thomas pulled away, slightly startled, but then stilled. "I weren't crying…just slept wrong," he muttered, his gaze not meeting John's. "Mummy said if I wanted to be a big boy I wasn't allowed to cry anymore." He began chewing on his bottom lip worriedly. If he wasn't in trouble before, he would be if they thought he was being a baby and crying.

"You can cry," John said softly. "Oh, Thomas, adults cry all the time. I cried a bit this morning and I am an adult. It isn't bad." He shifted to balance on his knees. This little boy was just scared and needed somebody. Sherlock was stepping up but he should, too. "How about you go hunting with us tomorrow?" Maybe that would make him feel a bit better.

"They…do?" Thomas asked incredulously. "But…you are big and strong and getta tell everyone what to do…why would you cry?" His eyes went wide at the thought of someone brave like John crying. His eyes got even wider in surprise. "R-really? I getta go? Oh please Mister, please! I swear I be good!" He was breathing heavily again in his excitement.

"Call me John," John said with a small smile, nodding his head. "And call my husband Sherlock, yeah?" He moved forward and hesitantly wrapped the boy in his arms, tugging him close. "You can go." He pulled away from the hug. "Kevin and I could use the help gathering the fish. You would be perfect." He grinned and ran a hand through Thomas' hair. "If you want to cry then you can, all right? You are still a big boy."

"Husband?" Thomas echoed confusedly. "His name is silly though…" He muttered and was once again startled by the contact. He didn't struggle out of it. Instead he gripped as tightly as he could. He had been wanting a hug awhile now, but he thought for sure he would just get yelled at some more.

God, Thomas was tugging at his heart strings. John nodded a bit. "Sherlock and I are married," he explained softly. "Like your Mummy and Daddy? We are husbands." He kept Thomas close to him and gently scratched the boy's back. "How about you sit next to us at dinner tonight? And I will give you my jacket as a blanket."

"I dun have a dad. Mummy said I was special and dinn't need one. Only really special, good boys dun get dads." Thomas nodded, as if what he said was absolute truth. He frowned in thought. "I guess I not though...Mummy gone. My fault, couldn't save her." He sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He sniffled again, looking up at John as the last question finally registered. "Please?" His lower lip quivered. "Dun wanna be alone…" He trailed off brokenly.

"It isn't your fault at all," John said softly, pulling Thomas back into him. "Your Mummy is an angel now, Thomas, and you will always have her watching over you." He smiled and closed his eyes for a long moment. "Your shelter is right next to ours so you won't be alone. Sherlock and I are here for you." He looked around for his husband before meeting the boy's gaze. "Now...now you have got two daddies."

Thomas sniffled some more, his face buried in John's chest. Even though it was okay to cry now, he didn't want to anyway. He too deep, shaky breaths and looked up to John with wide eyes. "Two daddies? Never had a daddy 'fore…now I have two…" He brightened. "Cool."

Sherlock came back with an armful of reeds and cattails. God, he was exhausted. He probably shouldn't have exerted himself so much after just waking up from unconsciousness. He dropped the items to the ground and slumped into the shelter. "

"Yeah, cool." John grinned at Thomas and pulled away slowly from him, looking at his husband. Weak. "Love..." He moved to study Sherlock, frowning. "Stay here. You need to rest," his voice was soft and held no room for argument. "If you can relax until dinner we will get some food in you." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's forehead and moved some hair out of his face. "Nothing else for you today."

"Still need to make the shelters better," Sherlock mumbled. He didn't get up though. Rest sounded nice right about now. "Going to nap," he grumbled because he really didn't want to but it was needed. He closed his and fell asleep.

Thomas watched Sherlock curiously and then looked to John. "He sleeps lots."

John glanced back at Thomas for a long moment. "He is just a bit sick," he muttered as he stood up. It was almost time to get the fire ready for dinner, the sun was inching closer to the ocean. "Do you want fish or bird for dinner tonight?" He smiled a bit and started gathering the sticks that would be used to cook the meat, heading toward the shore to get them wet.

"Sick? He looks okay..." Thomas scrunched his nose as he studied Sherlock closely. He looked back to John. "Bird! Fish boring!" His excitement faltered when he looked back to Sherlock sleeping. "Is...is he gonna die like my Mum?" Another look back to John, as he began chewing his lip again.

It was an innocent question and Thomas didn't know any better but John still tensed, eyes locked intently on Sherlock. "No, he is just really tired. That makes him sick, too. He won't die." He reached down and ruffled the boy's hair with a bit of a smile. God, his husband couldn't die. He wouldn't let that happen. "So Thomas, where are you from?"

Thomas frowned, still chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully as he stared at Sherlock sleeping. His lip was practically raw now. He nodded slowly and looked back to John. "Cardiff. Mummy had business in Italy. We was gonna fly to London and she was gonna take me to see everything! I...never been..."

John moved forward and gently tugged Thomas's bottom lip from his mouth with a bit of a smile. "We live in London, me and Sherlock." He left it at that as he turned to dip the sticks in the water. What was he saying? Were they going to adopt the little boy when they got off the island? He cleared his throat and started heading back toward their fire pit, setting the sticks up like a grill as Maria returned with firewood.

Thomas brightened and followed John around. "I visit? If...we ever leave..." He trailed off for a moment. "I been all kinds of places with Mum, 'cept never anywhere back home. Family business is a..ab...abroad." He stumbled over the word but kept going. "Dunno what it is. Weren't old nuff to know. It a secret! Isn't that cool?" He frowned. "Guess I never know what it is..." He began chewing his lip again and then stopped, muttering an apology.

John couldn't help but laugh. "You don't have to apologize, Thomas. You are fine, just try not to do it." He smiled warmly at the young boy before glancing up at his husband. He would cook Sherlock's ration and have it waiting in the shelter. He figured his husband would still be asleep by the time the sun was down and his watch round started. "And of course you can come visit us. I am sure Sherlock and our daughter would love it." He stood slowly and patted Thomas on the back. "C'mon, let's get the food for dinner. Want to help us cook?"

"Daughter? My age?" Thomas hesitated a moment. "Dunno how to cook. Not apposed to play wit' fire. Mummy says it is da-dan-ger-ous." He stumbled over the word and hesitated again. "Teach me? It be okay? Won't get in trouble? He concentrated on not biting his bottom lip and he ended up chewing the inside of his cheek as an alternative.

"Oi." John laughed. "Not the inside of your cheek, either, Thomas." He smiled warmly before continuing. God, the _thought_ of Amy made his stomach drop and he realized that he missed her. "No, she is much younger. About four months now," he muttered as they reached the food storage. He grabbed four fish and a bird, then some grapes. The biggest fish he knew he could split with his husband. If he ate slow he would fill up in no time and be able to save some for Sherlock. "Now, since we are cooking this bird you will have to give a bite for everybody _and_ this is your breakfast, all right?" They returned to the fire and he plopped into the sand, setting the fish down on several leaves Maria had set out, before starting to pluck the bird.

Thomas mumbled another apology and immediately began fidgeting with his fingers. He couldn't seem to keep still. He was about to pout and argue that the bird was _his_ but then he probably wouldn't get to visit John and Sh...Sherlock? in London. He sighed in resignation and then nodded slowly. He watched intently as the bird was plucked, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Whatcha ya doin'?" He finally asked because he was certain he would die of curiosity if he didn't ask.

John looked up at the little boy and smiled a bit. "Plucking it. I need to get all the feathers off so it will cook a bit easier and taste better." He paused and reached a hand out, gently tickling Thomas' stomach. "Wouldn't do any good to get any feathers in your tummy," he said with a playful growl before setting the plucked bird down. "Got to wait a bit for the fire to get stronger. Any ideas, kiddo?"

Thomas made a loud squealing laughing noise from the tickling. Once he could breathe again he stared at John blankly. Ideas? For what? He frowned and then shrugged. "Dunno…" He finally mumbled, shrugging his small shoulders a second time. He plopped down onto the ground in front of the fire, his fingers fidgeting in his lap.

"We could..." John shifted slightly, a large grin on his face, before he darted to his feet and picked Thomas off the ground. "Grr!" He growled with a bit of a laugh, spinning around with his arms extended and clutching tightly at the boy's sides. "I'm going to eat you!" He said with another laugh. God, he couldn't keep a straight face but it was worth it. They were bonding, something everybody on the island was doing, and Thomas needed to have some fun.

"H-hey!" Thomas shrieked, confused at first. Whoa. He was getting dizzy but now he was laughing. No one had ever spun him around in circles like this before.

The noise from the fire rustled Sherlock from his slumber. He groaned, his eyes slowly opening. His vision finally came into focus. John was spinning the boy around? Huh. They must have finally started to get along. He stayed slumped against the shelter, watching the activities around him for now.

John moved to set Thomas gently in the sand, tickling his stomach with a large grin. "Ah, I'm going to get you!" He said with a laugh, moving to press his mouth against the boy's stomach and blow against it. He remembered his father doing it when he was young and he figured Thomas might like it, too. He lifted his head for another breath when he noticed Sherlock was awake. Good. Oh, God, it felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, one he didn't know was there. He turned his attention back to Thomas and grinned.

Thomas giggled some more. When he calmed down enough, he followed John's gaze. "YAY! The man with the funny name is awake!" He ran over to Sherlock. He crawled onto the warm lap.

Sherlock groaned from the unexpected, extra weight of a child being in his lap. Uh. All right. He looked down at Thomas and then glanced up at John helplessly. He returned his gaze back down to the boy. "I have a name you know."

"It weird!" Thomas pouted. "Dun you have another name to go by? One not so hard?"

Well, John did call him a Sex God but that wasn't appropriate to say was it? "Uh, no. Sorry."

"Thomas, up." John moved and lifted the boy from his husband's lap, setting up down just outside their shelter. "Sherlock needs to rest and I need to talk to him, okay? Go ask Maria if you can help with anything." There was a moment where he glanced at Sherlock with a smile before ruffling Thomas' hair. "Good morning, dear," he whispered as he moved to sit next to his husband, giving him a gentle kiss. "Feeling any better?"

Thomas stood staring at John, his bottom lip puckering in a pout. He wanted to go hunting tomorrow so he scampered off back to the fire without arguing.

Sherlock watched the boy leave before glancing up at John. "Morning? It looks closer to the evening my dear doctor." He smirked a bit. "I'm fine. What do you need to talk to me about?"

"Nothing, just wanted to be alone with you," John replied with a bit of a grin. It had worked. "You are looking a bit better. I'm sharing my ration with you tonight so we still have two fish left for breakfast. I know you don't want to, Sherlock, but you need to eat something." Another soft kiss, this one longer as he let his tongue dart out to run across his husband's bottom lip. God, he was insatiable after the hand job in the inlet this morning.

Sherlock was about to argue with John about eating but the second kiss distracted him. He leaned over to resume kissing his husband. He didn't care who was around to see it. He added tongue pretty much immediately, breathing through his nose so it could last longer. He shifted so as to be at a better angle, his arms coming to wrap around John in a hug.

John should have cared because they were in public but everybody here knew about them, knew they were married, and sod it, he wanted to kiss Sherlock. He pressed against Sherlock, sucking at his tongue eagerly. There, distraction. He had done his job very well. Maybe now he would eat a bit. He couldn't help a small moan that came from his chest as he took a breath through his nose and moved his tongue to tangle with his husband's.

Oh God. John was moaning. Sherlock pressed into his husband, hoping to get his partner to lay down so he could easily straddle John. He continued the kiss, making it a bit more aggressive now. His fingers began scratching lightly at his husband's bare chest. "Want to shag you," he whispered against John's lips.

Right. John rolled to rest on his back after the small nudge, his hand pulling desperately at Sherlock's pants. God, he wanted to shag but they couldn't tonight, not with his husband being exhausted. Plus there was nothing he had to collect any oil from the cooking fish. He slowly opened his eyes and studied his husband, a sheepish smile growing on his lips. "Tomorrow at dinner we will have more fish. I can find a shell while we are hunting tomorrow to collect the oil. Can you wait?" He asked softly, his hand moving to rub at Sherlock's cheekbone.

Sherlock whimpered from the hand tugging at his pants. Wait? Oh right. He managed to smirk down at John. "Guess I'll have to, won't I?" He gave his husband another quick kiss before rolling off and laying on his back in the sand. He turned his head too look at John. "I love you." He reached out a hand and took his husband's, giving it a slight squeeze.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

New chapter up before now since I have to go in quasi early to work today! Thanks again to everyone who has been reviewing!

* * *

John couldn't help but smile at that, returning the squeeze. "I love you, too," he replied softly. Just hearing those three words from Sherlock had made his entire day better. It wasn't until he smelled the food cooking that his stomach rumbled. Jesus, he was starving. He had gone all day without eating. "After I am doing hunting tomorrow we can work on the shelters, me and you. If you're up for it, that is." He sat up a bit as Maria came around, dropping off a leaf with a fish, a few chunks of bird, and some grapes. "Here," he muttered as he picked up a grape and pressed it gently against his husband's lips with a smirk. "Thomas, come and eat," he said to the boy as Maria set his leaf down under his shelter.

Sherlock sighed. Of course John would try to make him eat. He shook his head, sitting up slowly and turning away from the offered fruit. "Maybe I'll eat tomorrow," he muttered. His husband would probably get upset. Was this their first month of marriage all over again? He sighed again at the thought.

Thomas came running excitedly and began eating his portion of food with enthusiasm, barely taking the time to chew it before swallowing.

Who did he talk to first? John popped the grape into his mouth before turning to the boy. "Thomas, slow down. Chew. You can't get any food until breakfast," he muttered before swallowing his bite. Now...Sherlock. Should he talk to his husband? The man had basically passed out earlier because he hadn't eaten in two days and was still turning down food. The last thing they needed was a fight. He let his eyes close before he grabbed the few bites of bird and ate them, wincing a bit at the taste. It would have to do, it was all they had. "You _will _eat _something_ tomorrow, Sherlock. Or at least drink some of our cleaned water."

Was he just being a stubborn child about not eating? Maybe he would have considered eating if John wasn't so…pushy about it. Sherlock sighed at his thoughts. He was actually thirsty. Hmmm. Shell. Water. Food. Yep. Juice it was. If memory served correctly it was a good source of vitamin A and C. "I'm going to make myself some juice." Would John even care? He began walking the shoreline looking for a decent sized shell.

Thomas would have run after Sherlock, except he was still eating. He tried to slow down, but it was so yummy it was hard not to scarf it down.

Fuck. John took small nibbles of his fish, wiping the oil from his hands on to his shorts with a frustrated glare. Damn it. Fighting again. Over stupid things like John trying to get Sherlock to eat. He finished his small meal and stood up. Maybe he just needed some time to think. He glanced over camp, making sure everybody was all right and accounted for, before turning into the trees and going toward the inlet. Alone. It was peaceful and John could get some time to himself. He pulled his shorts and boxers down before walking into the water, shifting to float on his back and let his eyes close.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John leave the camp. Apparently he had pissed of his husband for wanting to make juice for himself? Sure. That made sense. He shook his head, eyes going back to the sand in search of a shell. He finally found one and walked over to where he had left the basket of food. He picked out some jujube and placed them in the hollow part of the shell. He was about to walk back to camp when he saw John's outlining in the inlet. Leave his husband be or go talk? He ended up walking over there and he sat down quietly, as he watched John. He wasn't sure what to say to his husband right now because really he wasn't sure what John was so mad about. Was it all because he refused to eat?

After a few minutes of floating on his back John shifted, placing his feet in the sand and shaking his head. A figure caught his eye and he turned. Sherlock. Did he want to talk right now? They needed to, really. Needed to talk, work things out. Deep breath. Calm. He moved forward, silently walking out of the water and moving to sit beside his husband. If he talked first then his side would be out. "I am just worried about you," he stated softly, lifting his hands to nervously pick at a fingernail. "I stopped forcing you to eat on the honeymoon because we had food constantly but now...I just am worried. You are weak and I don't know how much more firewood or anything we will have. If you hold off eating too much longer you might not get to eat at all," he paused, his chest tightening. "And I can't lose you. I can't sit here and just watch you die."

Okay, so not mad about the juice. Things made a little more sense now. "If you are worried about not enough wood for the fire, you shouldn't have it burning constantly. Only use it to cook and then douse it," Sherlock stated pragmatically. "If need be, you could start burning clothes." He shrugged a bit. "I'm not starving, not yet John. There really isn't anything to worry about." He was quiet a moment. "I thought you had stormed off because I was going to make myself juice…" The faintest of smirks touched his lip.

"That _is_ all we use it for," John said softly, managing a bit of a laugh. Juice. "God, no, of course not." He smiled a bit and looked back toward the water. "I know you aren't starving, you are pretty good at not eating." He cleared his throat and turned his head, resting his ear on his elbow and looking up at his husband. "You are weak. I am just a little worried, okay? Because I love you. But...I'm not going to force you, no matter how hard it is to watch."

Oh. Apparently he had misunderstood when John was explaining things about the camp. "The juice I am going to make is high in vitamin A and C. I don't want to risk getting scurvy or some other illness. Also, the leaves from the bearberries can be used for tea. Obviously won't be the same, but I thought having more than just water to drink would be nice." Sherlock gave John a small smile. He leaned his head into his husband a bit.

John laughed a bit and moved an arm to rest across his husband's shoulders. "Good idea, I like it and I am sure everybody else will," he said softly. His husband was just avoiding the eating subject all together. He frowned a bit before placing a small kiss on Sherlock's temple. "Just... promise me you will eat something. Nothing big or anything like that just...something."

Sherlock sighed. This was getting nowhere. He had gone longer without food, and he just wasn't hungry. He understood that John was worried but… He sighed again. "Just…forget it…" He muttered as he stood up. Looked like things weren't resolved. Would they ever be? It seemed to be a reoccurring problem and he wasn't entirely sure how to resolve it so both of them would be happy.

Well, that had gone well. John looked up at Sherlock for a moment, bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "Please... sit back down." He lifted a hand up and opened it, studying his husband with a bit of a smile. "Sorry. I am sorry. I won't talk about it anymore," he was just desperate to be close to Sherlock now. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around his husband and hold him. "Please."

Sherlock looked down at John and there was a part of him that just wanted to walk away and pout. But…they were both supposed to be working on not doing that. He sat back down, eyes in his lap. "I promise I will eat when I'm hungry, but I am not going to when I'm not. I'm sorry." He didn't know how else to explain it to his husband. This was a stupid fight and it was making him feel grumpy and miserable.

"Okay. Not going to talk about it anymore," John whispered as he reached an arm out and tugged his husband closer. "I won't talk about it," he repeated softly before rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock's bicep. "If we weren't trapped here this island would be beautiful," he stated with a lop-sided smile. It was true but the fact that they didn't have a choice in the matter made him feel like a caged animal and he hated it.

Sherlock merely nodded. He continued to glare into his lap as he brooded silently. Trapped. It was then he realized he was actually feeling extremely irritated. Being stuck on this stupid island. They were supposed to be back in London and solving cases not doing _this_. His husband's insistence on eating had only antagonized his already agitated state. He needed to calm down and not be so stressed. "I don't think I was ever really upset with you. I am just annoyed with this whole situation. I'm sorry." He finally lifted his head to look at John.

Oh. Well, that was unexpected. Not entirely unwelcome, really, but a bit unexpected. "'S fine," John replied softly, meeting his husband's gaze. "It' is all right. I mean, we are all a bit stressed, aren't we? We're stuck here and it is a bit hard to make the most of it but we are. God, you gave me a wonderful hand job this morning." He smiled slightly and leaned forward, gently meeting his husband's lips. "We will be fine, like you said. We'll make it through this and go home and see Amy, solve cases, you'll see." He gave Sherlock another kiss.

Kissing. Yes, that was always good. Sherlock returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around John to pull his husband with him while he laid down. Talking was all well and good, but sometimes intimacy with John just seemed to make things better. At least for a little while anyway. He scratched at his husband's back, as he continued the kiss with a little more aggression and a growl.

John didn't hesitate to move to lay down with Sherlock, whimpering into the kiss and pressing into the warmth of his husband's body. Fuck. They _couldn't_ do this right now, not without anything. But Sherlock was kissing him and it was wonderful. "Love you," he whispered against Sherlock's lips. They couldn't stop but what else would they do? Another hand job? Blow job? He took a deep breath through his nose and reached between them to palm Sherlock through his pants.

Sherlock whimpered into the kiss as soon he felt John palming him pants. It wouldn't do to get all worked up and even if they did get each other off then they might not be able to shag once they finally had that fish oil ready. He managed not to be so aggressive, despite his increasing desire for something more. He finally broke the kiss. "We should wait. So we can shag later, yeah?" He looked up at John. If his husband wanted to keep going then really, who was he to argue further?

John took several deep breaths and nodded a bit. The fish oil wouldn't be ready until dinner tomorrow but he could wait. It wouldn't be a problem. "Yeah. O-Of course." He smiled and let his eyes slip shut. It was starting to get dark which meant he would need to get back to camp. Hell, they had left Thomas out there but he was so busy eating his bit of dinner that the boy probably didn't care too much. "I just want to be back in London," he admitted for the first time.

"Me too," Sherlock replied. "Come on then. Let's go, before we give the camp more to gossip about than we already do." He smirked up at his husband, his hand reaching up to scratch lightly at the back of John's head. He reached over to grab his shell with the jujube berries, as he slowly sat up and then stood.

God, John didn't want to go back to camp. With Sherlock he could close his eyes and pretend they were back in 221B, could forget everything. Camp meant reality. He stood slowly, looking down at the shell. "Can I eat one? It won't kill me, will it?" He looked up at Sherlock with a small smile, grabbing a berry and studying it intently.

"I sure as hell hope not, since I'm going to be using its pulp to make juice. I just need to smash them and add a bit of water. Depending on how diluted I want it to be, I just keep adding water until it is no longer too strong. Then I am just going to drink it out of the shell." Not the most sanitary way to ingest something but he didn't have a lot of options right now.

"We have water in the food hold." John smiled a bit and popped the berry in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. "Not too bad." He stood on his toes and placed a quick kiss to his husband before moving back toward camp. Kelly and Kevin were under their shelter finishing off dinner and Maria had just finished putting the fire out. Everything was winding down which mean it would soon be quiet and everybody but he, and apparently Sherlock, would be asleep. He moved into their shelter and sat down slowly, looking out at the water.

Sherlock followed after John. He smashed the fruit, making a slight mess on his fingers and then added a little water. He drank it strong, making a slight face but it wasn't too terrible. It was just a bit concentrated.

Thomas came running over to Sherlock. "Mister! Whatcha drinkin?"

"If you aren't going to call me Sherlock, then maybe you can come up with some kind of nickname?" Being called 'mister' wasn't helping his annoyed state.

"I have one? Never had one afore!"

"Maybe. I will see if I can come up with something."

John watched the two of them for a moment before falling on to his back with a small groan. After a bit he didn't think he was going to be able to handle Thomas. He looked over at the boy. "Almost bed time," he said softly before sitting back up to study the shell that his husband was drinking from. He had noticed the face and laughed a bit, dipping his finger into the juice and sucking it off. Not too bad, really. "Genius, he muttered.

Thomas pouted a bit but went over to his shelter, trying to think of a nickname for the man with a funny name.

Sherlock watched Thomas a bit before returning his gaze to John. He sighed a bit. "I think I like him better when he was brooding," he muttered quietly. He managed to smirk and then shrugged. "I went through a botany stage when I was growing up, so I know quite a bit about horticulture and the like."

John laughed and leaned slightly to the side, relaxing against his husband. "You know what I was thinking?" He asked softly, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Do you think they know? Mycroft and your Mum?" His voice was soft, near cracking. God, he couldn't handle this. He wanted to cry and scream and hit something. He tensed and closed his eyes. "Do you think they are looking for us?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows a bit at John's question. "Of course they are looking for us. Mycroft knows we are too stubborn to die." He smirked again. "They will find us. No worries my Love. Everything will turn out fine, it usually does. We just have to suffer a bit, it seems, before things go back to normal." He had to believe in what he said, otherwise they might as well just give up and die now.

John took a shaky breath and nodded, opening his eyes and locking his gaze on the water. Maybe tonight they would get lucky and a light would appear on the horizon. Maybe Mycroft had already found them. That was what he had to believe. "I fell asleep against you all the time." He finally changed the subject. He needed to. "I just...I wanted to feel your chest moving and your heart beating so I knew you were alive."

Sherlock smiled and reached out a hand to caress John's cheek lightly. "We will be fine, just you wait and see." He leaned forward and gave his husband a quick kiss on the lips. His hand dropped down to grab John's hand, squeezing it gently. He didn't really know what else to say or do to make his husband feel better.

Just holding Sherlock's hand calmed John down. He returned the squeeze but managed to keep his eyes locked on the water. How did his husband know that? They might not make it out alive. How was Sherlock so confident? He sighed and leaned to the side, resting is head on Sherlock's shoulder. "I love you."

Sherlock smiled again. "I love you too." He tilted his head to kiss the top of John's. He gave his husband's hand another squeeze of reassurance. He needed to keep John calm and hopeful. Negative thinking was a pitfall in circumstances that required everything a person had in them on surviving hazardous situations.

"I bet Amy can lift her head up by now," John said softly, his heart stopping for a moment at the thought of their daughter. "Probably smiles when she wakes up. Talks in all her little baby gibberish." He laughed softly and turned his head to place an open-mouthed kiss on his husband's neck. God, he just wanted to be comforted.

Sherlock nodded, although admittedly he hadn't thought about any of that until John had mentioned it. Would he ever worry about things like that? His thoughts were interrupted by the kiss on his neck, and he moved it so his husband could have more access to it. God. That felt wonderful. At this rate he was certain he would get an erection, because he was still turned on from before. Maybe he could excuse himself a bit later. John was supposed to be keeping watch tonight and he would just end up being a distraction later.

John didn't hesitate, moving to straddle Sherlock while he sat. If Sherlock was willing to move like that so he had better access then he would take advantage of it. He started to suck at the skin below his mouth, determined to mark his husband. His hips pressed forward slightly as his mouth made a small 'pop' against Sherlock's neck.

Of course they wouldn't be able to wait tomorrow. "Oh God yes," Sherlock moaned, his body bucking up into the man above him without any hesitation. He really hadn't wanted to wait and he didn't give a damn they were where everyone could see them. Maybe they wouldn't be able to shag but they could get each other with hand jobs or maybe just squirming against each other. John had said he had liked that last time.

Shit. That felt amazing. John popped his mouth against Sherlock's neck again and hissed. They had to be quiet, especially with Thomas next to them. "Shhh..." He pressed against his husband, his erection digging into Sherlock's stomach. "Thomas," he whispered softly before pressing against his husband again. Now. He needed this right now, they couldn't wait.

Quiet. Right. It had been awhile since Sherlock hadn't made noise while getting each other off. He ended up grinding his teeth together, finding it difficult to comply with something that had come so natural at first. He pushed back into John, grinding eagerly into the man above. The friction felt wonderful. He bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from moaning.

John was already breathing hard, sucking at Sherlock's neck for a long moment before pulling away to meet his husband's lips. God, he couldn't _not_ touch Sherlock, especially with the man so close to him. He wanted fish oil right now, wanted to feel Sherlock inside if him. He gasped at the thought and wrapped his arms tighter around his husband. "Harder," he whispered against Sherlock's lips. "Please. Harder."

Sherlock bucked up into John roughly, grinding up against the man above him as best he could from his position on his back. One hand moved to his husband's back where he began to scratch and the other hand reached up to John's hair to pull on it. He pressed their lips back together, kissing his husband with earnest and aggression.

John grunted into Sherlock's mouth, his hips pressing forward roughly in three quick movements. He wanted to talk. Jesus, he wanted to talk and moan and tell his husband how wonderful it was. His hips kept moving forward in rough, short movements against his husband's stomach. Wasn't he supposed to be watching the water? Shit, this was too good. Too amazing.

Sherlock moaned quietly into John's mouth, his noise mostly muffled. He wasn't sure why this felt so good still, just that it _did_. The friction and the rough movements were going to have him climaxing any moment now. He continued to scratch his husband's back and pull John's hair, the kiss getting even more aggressive as he growled into his husband's mouth.

Hair pulling and scratching and _fuck_. John tensed above his husband, coming roughly as he couldn't help a soft moan. God. Oh, god that had been... "Shit," he whispered as his hips kept moving to help his husband. It would be selfish and after he could collapse, could close his eyes for a few moments before he needed to continue to keep his eyes locked on the water waiting for rescue. "Love you. Yes, God, love you."

Sherlock came shortly after John did, his teeth digging in deeply into lip to the point he bled. He began breathing heavily after that, swallowing large intakes of air. "Yes…'sgood…" He managed to breath out. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on breathing normally again. The scratching and pulling, turned into light and soothing touches. "Love you too," he whispered once he had some normal semblance of normal air flow back.

John groaned into his husband's chest, wincing a bit when he shifted. Shit, that was his only pair of clothes. He would have to wash his boxers and shorts tomorrow. Worth it. So amazingly worth it. It took him a few minutes before he sat up, still straddling his husband. "Proof we can't keep our hands off each other, yeah." He ran a hand gently up and down Sherlock's chest. "We are idiots."

Sherlock grinned up at John. "Maybe but what's the point to life if you can't enjoy it?" They had made quite the mess and it was a bit…uncomfortable. He was going to wash his pants the first chance he got. Would his husband be upset if he went to the water inlet for a bit? He had promised John to stay up and keep watch tonight.

"Here," John moved to sit in the sand, laying back to pull his shorts and boxers off. "Go wash up. I know that little grimace anywhere." With a small smile he grabbed his husband's jacket and moved it over his lap, crossing his legs and turning his eyes back toward the shore and water. "Bring me back some grapes, please? My stomach feels like it's trying to eat itself."

Sherlock smirked a bit as he sat up. "I shouldn't be too long Love." He leaned over and gave John a kiss on the cheek before he stood. He walked to the inlet of water, stripped his pants and underwear off. His pants should be fine, just a little stained. He washed the briefs in the cool water. He slid his pants back on, not bothered by the minor mess inside. As he walked back to camp he picked up the basket from the food storage. He ate some grapes and almonds, as he sat back down next to his husband.

Well, _that_ made John smile. Sherlock was eating. He moved to place a kiss on his husband's cheek before snagging a few grapes and popping them in his mouth. They were a bit tart but still delicious and he was more than willing to continue eating. "You are good at this whole food gathering thing," he muttered with a small smile, curling his bare body a bit tighter under Sherlock's coat. The weather during the day was usually a bit warm but now he was a little chilly, considering he had taken his clothes off. "Enjoying what you found?"

Sherlock tossed his still wet underwear in their shelter and popped some more grapes into his mouth. "Want me to wash yours too while you keep watch? Then you can laugh at me for being domestic and doing some laundry." He smirked at John and then shrugged. "It is food. I am not sure I havve ever enjoyed eating. I only do it because it is needed."

Sherlock being domestic. The thought made John giggle as he handed over his boxers and shorts. "Yeah, if you won't mind. It will keep you occupied," he muttered with a bit of a smile. Doing laundry, finding food. His husband _had_ turned quite domestic since they ended up on the island. "Just don't ruin them. You have got two other pairs of pants, that is all I have got," he muttered as he chewed at an almond.

Sherlock smirked. "My pants might be a bit long on you, but you are more than welcome to wear them my doctor." He took a handful of almonds in one hand and John's clothes in the other as he stood back up. He crunched on the food as he walked back to the water inlet. It didn't take long to clean them and by the time he walked back, all the almonds were eaten. "Hopefully they will be dry in the morning, or at least dry enough to wear." He commented as he sat back down next to his husband, his legs crossing under him.

"I am not as skinny as you," John muttered the moment Sherlock returned, eyes starting to slip closed. The day had exhausted him and keeping watching was going to damn near kill him, he was sure. His head fell forward for a moment before it snapped back up, eyes blinking rapidly. Jesus. A cup of coffee sounded wonderful right now. Then again, so did a bed where he could curl against Sherlock under blankets and sleep soundly under a roof. The thoughts made him frown and he cleared his throat.

"I meant for you to wear them to keep you warm through the night." Sherlock smirked again. "Love, you should sleep. I can keep watch the rest of the night." He wrapped an arm around John in a sideways hug. "You need to keep your strength and wits up, so you can take the boy hunting. Who knows what kind of trouble he will get in, if you don't keep a sharp eye out." The smirk got bigger.

John should have argued, should have shook his head and said it would be unfair to everybody else who had done their round on watch but his eyes were already slipping closed. "'M'kay, but wake 'em up if there's a boat," he muttered tired, his words starting to slur together. He nodded a bit before his body finally went limp against his husband and he fell asleep.

Sherlock smiled. Good. His husband needed to sleep. He stayed next to John, his head tilting a bit to lean against the man sleeping next to him. "Sleep well my dear doctor. No nightmares," he whispered. He stared at the reflection of the moon on the water. The likelihood of being searched for after nightfall was very slim, but he supposed these people needed hope. Something to believe in.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

I keep meaning to mention it and forgetting. The title of this is actually based off the song, and sharing the same name, by Skillet.

* * *

John slept for three hours before groaning, his neck protesting to the position he picked to fall asleep in. He sat up slowly and rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry..." His voice was still rough with sleep and after a few moments he slumped back against his husband. After a quick yawn he locked his eyes on the water. Nothing. What is it now? Going into day four? He had lost count, focusing more on food and making sure everybody was all right. "How are you?"

While John slept, Sherlock looked over the camp. There were a lot of things inefficient, that could run smoothly if they were tweaked a bit. However, he couldn't say anything to his husband could he? John had already felt threatened by him. He frowned in thought. Two years ago, that wouldn't have mattered. Now… His thoughts dispersed when he heard his husband talking. "I am fine. Did you get enough sleep?"

Sleep. Had he even slept comfortably since they had crashed? "Yeah, of course," John lied smoothly, turning his head to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's shoulder. It was still dark outside so he hadn't slept too long, a thought that made him frown. He wasn't going to be very efficient on the next day's hunt. "Anything interesting you saw while I napped?" He looked up at his husband and smiled softly, a hand moving to twirl the long strands of hair around his fingers.

"Mmm, you should try to get more sleep." Sherlock looked John over thoughtfully before he shrugged. "Not really. Just some rocks, sand, and a lot of water." He smirked at his husband a bit. Never too soon to make jokes right? "Just another quiet night, I'm sorry." Probably not the news John would want but really, did his husband expect anything?

John chuckled and shrugged, chewing at his bottom lip. "Not much different from every other night, really. Didn't expect it to be any different," he said softly as he lifted Sherlock's coat up, leaving his bare back exposed. He didn't care, though. It was warm and despite its dip in the sea water, it still smelled like his husband. It was comforting, something to take his mind off of everything. "Camp is talking about us," he finally muttered, glancing at Sherlock.

"People do little else, even when in situations like these." Sherlock shrugged again. "Does it…bother you?" It didn't matter to him, but John was a little more sensitive to things like that. Frankly, he had expected it. Considering they couldn't keep their hands off each other for more than a few hours. Even if they were fighting, especially if they were fighting. Fights always seemed to result in something sexual. Not that he was complaining, it had merely been an observation on his part.

_Did_ it bother John? At some point he figured it would. Hell, Kelly and Kevin were married and nobody was talking about them. They had just finished their honeymoon, Sherlock was attractive...what was he supposed to do? Just stop any touching at all because they were on an island? He shrugged. "Not really. Just don't see the point in gossiping about us. We are a couple, married even, it is natural to be intimate. I wish they would just keep their business to themselves and let us be," he muttered, eyebrows drawn together.

"John, there is no point to gossip. They just need something to make them feel normal, probably." Sherlock shrugged a bit and then gave his husband a sideways hug. "I thought maybe it would upset you, is all. In the past…it would have…" He trailed off, hoping this wasn't heading for another fight. Because God, he was sick of fighting.

It would have upset John in the past, there was no doubt about it. "Yeah, it would have," he said softly before looking at his husband. "'M going to go wash up real fast." He stood slowly, draping Sherlock's coat over his husband's shoulders before wandering away. Why did Sherlock have to bring it up? Yes, he would have been upset in the past. In the past, Sherlock wouldn't even be in a bloody relationship but he wasn't bringing that up at all. He moved into the small inlet and splashed his face several times with the water, running a hand across his stomach to clean up their earlier activities.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John leave. He had upset his husband anyway, hadn't he? He sighed at his thoughts. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? Always had to be clever and say something, didn't he? His thoughts were interrupted when he heard screaming. Thomas. He stood up quickly, the coat dropping to the ground and went to the boy's shelter. Thomas was curled in a little ball, crying. He frowned. He knew that haunted look. The boy had a nightmare. "Hey. It's over now. Everything is fine." Comforting John after a nightmare was one thing, but he had no idea how to go about it with a child with whom he was barely acquainted. Thomas didn't even seem to realize Sherlock was there.

Was that screaming? John sprinted from the inlet and stumbled into camp, looking around before he noticed Sherlock had moved. His husband was in the boy's shelter and...comforting him? Oh. Nightmare. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax, hands on his hips as he glanced out at the water for a moment. If he could toss his emotions aside then he could go and help Sherlock, comfort Thomas like the Dad he said he was earlier. But going near Sherlock made him tense for some reason, made him want to shout. Sod it. He moved away, heading toward the shore.

John's movements caught his attention and Sherlock watched his husband, the frown on his lips deepening. Yep. John was certainly annoyed with him again. He sighed, turning his attention back to Thomas. What else could he say? The boy was being completely unresponsive. None of those stupid books he had read on parenting gave him tips on how to deal with something like this. Should he try tactile comfort? Depending on how traumatized the boy was, that could end up back firing on him completely. So much for being a genius and knowing everything. He had absolutely no clue what to do right now.

John watched his husband curiously before moving from the shore toward the shelter. The least he could do would be to help Thomas. He moved beside the boy and shifted him to sit up, leaning against John's chest. "It's all right," he whispered softly, his hands rubbing up and down the boy's arms. "Deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth, yeah? Just be calm. Think about something happy.. London." He closed his eyes for a long moment, doing the exact same thing.

Sherlock moved to the side. John made it look so easy and effortless. He was never going to be able to make it as a father, was he? He couldn't even do something simple like comfort a child. On top of that, he couldn't even be a proper husband because all he seemed to do lately is piss John off. He was pretty much useless at this point, so he decided to leave. His husband didn't want him around anyway, did he? He sighed, stood up and walked back to the shelter to sulk.

Thomas finally began calming down, pressing his face into John's chest until he noticed that Sherlock was leaving. He looked back up to John. "Why does he look so sad?"

John studied Sherlock for a long moment and licked his lips, clearing his throat as he looked down at Thomas. "We just had a little row," he muttered softly as he ran a hand soothingly through the boy's hair. "It happens a lot but we are adults. We will figure it out." He smiled down at Thomas and then looked back up at his husband. Shit. He had really made a mess of things, hadn't he? "Are you all right, then? I...I need to go talk to Sherlock." He smiled a bit.

Thomas nodded slowly. "I think so." He didn't think he would be able to sleep again. It was too scary. "Can I go play on the beach?" There wasn't a lot to do, but throwing stones out into the water always made him feel better.

Sherlock had sat down against the shelter, his head leaned against it and his eyes shut. They had been doing so well by the end of their honeymoon and now…they couldn't seem to stop fighting. Would this insanity ever end?

"Yeah, of course." John smiled a bit and ruffled through Thomas's hair. "Just don't go too far." He stood up slowly, moving toward their shelter and picking up his husband's coat on the way. "Here, it is getting cold out." He slipped the coat on over Sherlock's shoulder. He slipped his own boxers on and sat down beside his husband. "I got a little annoyed because...because I thought you thought I was upset that people were talking...that it was bothering me. It doesn't, you know? It doesn't at all because I am proud to call you my husband. I really am. I don't want you too ever think I am embarrassed that people talk about us." He finally looked over at Sherlock and shrugged.

Sherlock lifted his head and opened his eyes when he heard John approach. Right. He had figured that much out on his own. He managed a small smile and he nodded. "Yeah…chose my words poorly." He was quiet moment. "Just goes to show I am terrible at being married and just now with Thomas, obviously not cut out to be father. I don't know I think I can be…" He trailed off, looking away. The feeling of being defeated didn't happen often and it was damn near crushing him now. Why couldn't he be cocky and arrogant about those things, like everything else?

"No. Sherlock, no. Don't even go there." John shook his head and studied his husband for a long moment. "You are amazing with Amy. So amazing. You talk to her and entertain her and take care of her. You're a wonderful father." He paused and smiled a bit. Good, they were talking. Talking was what they needed. "And you are the greatest husband anybody could ask for. You talk to me, support me, comfort me." He leaned forward and gave his husband a small kiss on the cheek. "Please don't ever think you are horrible at being part of a family. You are doing so well." Negative thinking would tear anybody apart and for Sherlock, a man who was always so positive and confident, it would never be a good thing.

Sherlock looked up at John. Maybe his husband was right. "I…still have room for improvement. I will do better. I swear to you on Amy's life, I'll get better John." He fell silent again, realizing what he had just said. Christ, would that upset his husband too? He had never made a promise like that before and he wasn't sure if it had been appropriate now. He had just wanted John to know that was going to strive to be a better husband and father.

"Quite the promise," John whispered with a smile. On top of that, his husband has used her given name over the nickname. "I believe you will. I know you will get better. No doubt about it." He shifted and moved to give Sherlock a slow kiss, exhaling shakily against his husband's cheek. "I believe in you, Sherlock Holmes," he whispered softly before smiling against his husband's lips.

Sherlock smiled. He wrapped his arms around John, to pull his husband closer. He rested their foreheads together. "I love you." He kissed his partner's lips, making it slow but passionate. "I love you," he repeated and then continued the kiss. If people were going to talk, then they might as well give them something to talk about.

It could never be repeated enough times that Sherlock was an absolutely amazing kisser. John moaned softly and moved to pull Sherlock. Just snogging, he told himself with a small snort. Right. They could never stop. Sherlock was far too attractive for him to just pull away from. What really made him grin, made his heart beat a little faster, was that his husband had said 'I love you' twice. He had never done that. He whimpered into Sherlock's mouth and wrapped his arms tightly around his husband.

Sherlock smirked, he was rather pleased with himself right now. He moved with John easily, pressing into his husband despite having gotten off only a few hours before. He would have continued the kissing but Thomas had come up and was staring at them.

"Do all grownups kiss like dat?" The boy's eyes were wide, as he watched Sherlock and John with the utmost curiosity

The...Hell? John pulled away from the kiss with a small gasp, panting as he studied Thomas. Damn kid. He licked his lips and closed his eyes for long moment. "Yes, they do," he said breathlessly, his hand curling against his husband's bare back. They would probably have to stop now with Thomas being all curious. He had completely forgotten about the little boy. "What happened to throwing rocks in the ocean?" He asked softly, not bothering to move from under Sherlock. He rather liked the position.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, the smirk returning to his lips. He thought about trying to explain it to Thomas but then he remembered it probably wouldn't be age appropriate. Also, he wasn't this kid's dad…so who was he to say anyway?

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But…never seen other adults do it…" He shrugged at the question. "Tryin' to skip 'em and it not working. I quit."

"Lots of adults do this," John said with a small nod, happy that he had finally caught his breath. "Thomas, can we have a bit of privacy? Sorry mate, Sherlock and I...we just need some time alone, yeah?" His hips lifted up slightly on their own. God, this was the worst time to be extremely aroused. "How long has it been since you went and washed up in the inlet?"

Oh God. Sherlock bit his lip as John moved up into him, so he wouldn't moan. His body did squirm reflexively into the man below him though.

Thomas dropped his head. Had he done something wrong to get sent away? He walked away muttering and kicking at the ground, as he disappeared toward the inlet.

John _should have_ cared that Thomas was clearly upset, that the little boy just wanted to be around people. But Sherlock was squirming into him and it felt wonderful. "Sh-Sherlock," he whispered into his husband's ear. Not again. If they wanted to hold out until they had fish oil then they couldn't keep this up. He turned and gently met his husband's lips. Snogging. Just snogging.

Well, that was rather easy to get rid of Thomas. Was this one of things he should care about? Sherlock was distracted easily and readily from his thoughts when John started kissing him. He returned it immediately. They were supposed to shag tomorrow with the fish oil but here and now was more alluring to him at the moment, and he continued to grind into his husband.

Okay. Grinding. Shit. John moaned softly and forced his hips to still. "L-Later," he muttered the best he could manage, stumbling over his words. He could hardly focus, couldn't stop his hips from lifting marginally. That wasn't a very convincing argument at all. "Fish oil. F-Fi-" He tensed and slammed his head back into the sand as he tried to stay still. Damn it.

Sherlock continued to squirm into the man below him but a commotion coming from where Thomas had gone off too met his ears. Damn it. Couldn't that boy be left alone for more than two minutes? The commotion continued, sounding more frantic now followed by Thomas screaming for help. Of course. Well, they were going to have to wait until tomorrow after all. "If he is just doing this for attention," he muttered and finally got off of John.

John got to his feet immediately, darting toward the inlet. "Thomas!" He was sprinting now, trying to find the little boy. "Thomas!" What could he have gotten into? The water wasn't horribly deep and there wasn't much else around. "I'm coming! Just...Thomas!" He darted between a few trees before sliding to a stop and looking frantically around the washing area.

Right. Now wasn't the time to stand around and mutter. Sherlock ran after John and frowned at the scene they found.

Thomas was on the ground crying. There was a dead snake next to the boy, and a large thick stick in his hand. He had probably used it as a club. His ankle was swollen from being bit, probably from the snake. "Don't wanna die!" He wailed miserably, constantly looking from his ankle to the snake.

Sherlock picked up the snake and pressed the roof its mouth. No venom came out. Not poisonous, that was a relief. John would probably know how to take care of the boy better than he did, so he stayed out of the way. He thought about throwing it away but then realized it could be used for meat and possibly other uses, so he held onto it now.

"Shhh. Calm down, Thomas." John looked up at Sherlock for a moment before moving to rest on his knees in front of the boy, gently pulling the stick away. "It is all right." He turned to Sherlock and smiled a bit. "Hold on to it. Dinner," he whispered before turning back to Thomas. "How about I take care of that for you, yeah?" He moved and dipped his hands in the water, rubbing it into the small wounds he found. "Good job, Thomas. You got some dinner for us," he said proudly.

Sherlock nodded at John. "I will go back to camp and try to make a comfortable spot for the kid." There wasn't anything else he could at this point.

Thomas made a face. "Snake...for dinner?" He had managed to stop crying, but he still sniffled. "Dunno why it bit me...didn't do nuffin to it...just wanted to get it offa me so I kept hitting it..."

"It's all right. It was a wild animal, Thomas. Sometimes they do that." He smiled warmly and moved to ruffle the boy's hair. "C'mere, let's get you back to camp." He moved and put an arm under the boy's knees and another tightly around his shoulders before picking him up. Not too heavy. "It is going to be all right, I promise. We will get some leaves on there to cover the little cuts and then you will be set," he came into camp and looked at his husband warmly, standing on his toes for a moment to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, dear," he muttered as he set Thomas down and moved to grab a few leaves from under their shelter.

Sherlock had found some bigger, fresher leaves and made a pile with them. He then laid his coat over the leaves. It was the best he could do under their current circumstances. He smiled at John. "Do you think the boy would like a trophy? Thinking of stringing the teeth on vine. Little boys like that, don't they?"

Thomas nodded, still sniffling. "Not gonna die then?"

"No, of course you aren't going to die," John said with a small laugh as he finally made Thomas comfortable before standing up. He turned to Sherlock with a soft smile and grinned, laughing a bit. "If you can manage to get them all off, yeah. Some are a bit small, I imagine. I dunno, we could skin it before we cook it? He would like that, too." He moved forward and wrapped one arm around his husband, giving him a soft kiss. "You are better at this fathering thing then you think."

Thomas nodded. "Gonna sleep," he muttered. He had worn himself out after beating wildly at the snake to get it off of him.

"Should be able to get them out. Yeah, maybe he would..." Sherlock shrugged and then looked up to John. "You think so? Sometimes I seem to be doing fine and others...I just feel lost..."

"Just fine. I promise." John smiled a bit and studied Thomas. "Sherlock...we should look into..." He cleared his throat and glanced back at his husband. "What is he going to do when we are rescued?" When. He had to keep it positive. "We should look into adopting him." There, it was out. He had been considering it since the boy had admitted he'd never had a father. He didn't see why they would just leave him after he had so obviously gotten attached to them.

What? Where the hell had that come from? "I am sure he has a family waiting for him back home that would probably protest two strangers adopting their son, grandchild, nephew, or whatever." Sherlock wasn't opposed to the idea necessarily, it had just caught him off guard. Were they ready for that kind of responsibility?

"He doesn't have a Dad," John said softly as he studied the sleeping boy with a bit of a frown. "His Mum, no offense to the dead, sounded horrid. I mean, I could ask if he's got family that he sees but...he is from Cardiff and I, oh I don't know, I just..." He shrugged and finally looked at Sherlock. There was a slim chance of them actually having another child unless either of them cheated, something he was keen to never do again. "Look at him. He is so attached to us."

"We can try, but it may or may not work out. So, be ready for that okay?" Sherlock smiled and leaned their heads together. "I know he has Love. He has grown on you too, I saw you with him over at the fire. Little Sandi can have a big brother. That...that would be good." He gave John a small kiss on the nose.

God, he loved little moments like this when Sherlock wanted to just be close to him and did adorable little things like kiss his nose. "I think it will," John said softly, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to think. Fire? "Oh, when I tickled him," he said with a low chuckle, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband's lower back. "He would be so protective of Amy when they are older. It would be...endearing."

"Older brothers do tend to be protective of their younger siblings." Sherlock smirked a bit. He wrapped his arms around John. "I love you." He leaned down and kissed his husband on the lips gently. This was nice. He would never get tired of just holding onto John.

John smiled against Sherlock's lips like an idiot. How could he not? They had just agreed to expand their little family, to take care of another child. "I love you, too," he whispered as his arms tightened around his husband's torso. "Can you keep holding me?" The question was soft, a bit hesitant. They didn't usually ask each other things like that but he couldn't help it.

"Of course my Love." Another kiss on the nose. "I wasn't planning on letting go anyway." Sherlock smirked a bit as he drew John closer. Things seemed to be getting better between them and that made him happy. He didn't want this moment to end anytime soon, except he could see the sun starting to rise which meant people would be waking up soon and chores would need to be done.

John immediately buried his face into his husband's chest, closing his eyes. For a moment he could pretend they were back in their flat, could pretend that when he opened his eyes Mrs. Hudson would be there smiling at them and saying something utterly ridiculous. When his eyes opened he felt his heart lurch because, damn it, there the island was. Everywhere. Water and sand and the bloody sun. "The moment we get back to the flat I am shagging you. I don't care where."

Sherlock smiled, resting his chin on the top of John's head. Despite how things had turned out he was enjoying this moment with his husband. He smirked at what John said. "Damn right we will." God, shagging. He missed it already. How had they gone a month without it before? He could hardly wait for tomorrow, well today now really. They would have fish oil soon and he didn't give a damn if the whole island heard them.

"Going to pin you to the couch, bend you over," John whispered with a bit of a smirk. "Fuck you until you can't walk straight." He grinned and closed his eyes. There. Now he could work his husband up, have a bit of fun, and get ready for the day. "Just think...fish oil. Need to find a shell to collect it all," he muttered as an after thought. "Want to do that while I take Thomas and Kevin to check the traps? Make sure it is big, I want to feel you but I want to continue with my daily life." He laughed softly and moved his head, meeting Sherlock's lips in a languid kiss.

The words made Sherlock squirm a bit. God, he wanted to shag now damn it. "I can find one. After hunting we can shag then? We could work on the shelters after that?" He returned the kiss eagerly, nipping lightly at John's bottom lip. Today was going to be good, better than yesterday. It had to be.

"We have to wait until lunch. Can't get the oil until we cook it," John said with a soft smile. God, he was so ready. Apparently Sherlock was, too. Nipping at his lips, squirming against him. If this didn't happen soon they might both go crazy. "After lunch we can find a spot on the other side of the island. Isn't too big. We will be fine." He reached between them, his hand stopping just below Sherlock's belly button. He grinned against his husband's lips and pulled away, grabbing his shorts and slipping them over his boxers.

Of course they would have to wait until after lunch. Sherlock sighed at the thought but nodded. Soon. The day should go by fast since they would constantly be doing something. Not a lot of idle time in a survival camp that relies on the daylight. He finally released his husband. "I can't wait to shag you." God, just thinking about it was making him hard.

Calm. John couldn't help the small shiver that ran through his body at the thought. They hadn't shagged in almost five days. He was ready to have that type of intimacy with his husband again. "You can work on the shelters today if you want. I am going to hold off on taking Thomas hunting. But the snake and some fish for dinner should be good." He smiled softly. He needed to focus on everything else before his thoughts swayed to his husband. He couldn't go there just yet.

Sherlock nodded. He would need to wait for more daylight before he should try working on the shelters. So, what should he do in the meantime? He thought about exploring the island, it wasn't that big after all. He had only investigated the camp, and the area to and from the inlet. He might be able to find something of use. He looked over to John, he should probably tell his husband what he was up to. "I am going to look around the island until the sun is a little higher in the sky."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note:

Awww, yeah. Sexy Johnlock time. Thanks to everyone who has been leaving reviews!

* * *

"Don't get lost," John replied softly, moving forward without a second thought to gently meet Sherlock's lips. "Be back soon and shout if you need help. I love you." He took a deep breath, smiled, and slowly moved back. "Going to head to shore...maybe try to find a shell." The smirk on his lips was calm, mischievous, and he moved slowly toward the water.

"I will be fine Love." Sherlock returned the kiss, his own smirk forming. "I'll probably be back around the time you should be done hunting." He kissed John one more time before he moved off, deciding to explore the eastern side first. Tomorrow he would walk the western side of the island. He walked down the beach, passing the fire pit and the other shelters. He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly, but it couldn't hurt to take the time to explore. It wasn't like there was anything else to do right now.

It didn't take John too long to find a shell that would hold enough fish oil for what they would need. Flat, half an inch deep. It would be perfect if they could manage not to spill it on the way to a private area. He moved back up to their shelter and set it on top of Sherlock's coat before turning to look at Thomas. The boy was still asleep but now would probably be a good time to wrap his ankle. He grabbed a handful of leaves and knelt in front of Thomas, gently lifting his ankle and propping it on his thighs as he started slowly wrapping the leaves around the bite wound.

Thomas groaned in his sleep, and slowly came awake. His ankle hurt. Someone was putting something on it and it was itchy. "Mister John, whatcha ya doin?" He twisted his body a bit so he could watch the work being done on him.

Sherlock made good time, having long legs were definitely a plus. He could cover ground quickly without really trying. He continued to walk to the length of the beach, his eyes searching the ground and the water. A glint caught his eye and he had to squint into the sea to find it again.

"I am wrapping your little cuts," John said with a warm smile, glancing up for a moment to look at Thomas. "We don't want anything to get into your open wounds. Now..." He finished wrapping the leaves around the boy's ankle and nodded a bit. "You are going to sit here today, all right? We want you off of that ankle for a bit. I will bring lunch to you and everything." He lifted a hand and ruffled Thomas's hair.

"Was gonna hunt today," Thomas muttered, his lip puckering in a pout. His ankle sure did hurt a lot. He sighed in resignation and nodded. "O-okay," he was still muttering and pouting despite agreeing.

Sherlock stripped naked, tossed his pants and underwear up further on the shore so they wouldn't float away, and gently laid the necklace of dog tags and his wedding ring on top. He then waded into the water. Interesting, there was a drop off near the shore. He wasn't an Olympian swimmer by any means but he was confident that he could at least investigate this area further. He dived into the water.

"Tomorrow we will check out your ankle and see how you are doing, yeah?" John sat back on his feet with a bit of a grin. "You are not missing much anyway. Lots of walking and checking traps for fish. Few birds, if we're lucky." He shrugged. It was true and he figured at some point that Thomas would get bored. It was quite the trek around the island to check all the traps. "Just relax today. The faster you get better, the faster you get to go hunting."

Thomas nodded again reluctantly. Today was going to be boring. He probably wouldn't even be allowed to get up to the throw stones at the water. "Mister John, do ya know how to skip stones? I never get it right."

What Sherlock found surprised him; there was an underground cove under the island. It had bothered that nothing had washed ashore. It just didn't make sense. He now knew why, it was all under here. Well, at least a few things. Nothing to get excited about, based on his cursory glance. He swam back for air. Right then. He should tell John. He redressed and jogged back to camp.

Skipping stones. Hell, that was all he had done as a child at the small lake across from the collection of flats his mother forced them to live in after his father had died. "I... do, yeah." He nodded a bit and cleared his throat. "Tonight I could carry you down there and show you." He nodded again. That wouldn't be too much of a problem, he figured. Just a few quick throws, show Thomas the hold and toss and then it would be good. "Tonight," he repeated softly, turning his gaze to Sherlock when his husband came into view.

Thomas brightened, a big grin on his face as he nodded vigorously. "Yay!"

Sherlock was mostly dry by the time he got back to camp, except for his hair. It was longer than usual, and the water weighted it down giving it the illusion his hair was straight. Except for the few telling curls that still swirled in his bangs just above his eyes. Once he saw John, he slowed down to a walking pace and moved over to his husband. "Hey, I think I found something. Worth looking into anyway. It is underwater though."

John was fairly sure he misheard his husband. Underwater? His eyebrows came together and he licked his lips. "What?" He stood up slowly, smiling a bit at Thomas before turning to face Sherlock. "Something underwater? What exactly could it be?" This just didn't make any sense. Then again, they _were_ crashed on an island in the middle of nowhere so he figured he should listen to his husband.

Right. He should probably explain it a little better. "When you said you didn't find anything washed up on shore, it bothered me. It is why I decided to go have a look, honestly. Anyway, _something_ should have come ashore, even if it wasn't a lot. I found an underwater cove, where I think stuff from the crash ended up. I didn't get a good look, because I had to come up for air. I thought about going back down and getting what I could but I just know I would have got trapped and drowned or something. You know, since we have such good luck." Sherlock offered his husband a half smirk.

Were they trapped in some sort of ridiculous story? "Right. So you are telling me that there's a tunnel under water, under the island, where all of the stuff from the crash might be since it didn't wash up on shore?" He nodded and looked around camp. Everybody was still sleeping soundly and he shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to go look at it. "All right. Let's go. What did you see at first that tipped you off?" He started following the footprints left behind in the sand to get back to the cove.

"More or less." Sherlock shrugged a bit and caught up with John easily. "Something in the water was glinting. At first I thought it just might be the rising sun's reflection on the water, but upon closer inspection I realized it was _under_ the water. In fact, I think I figured out why the stuff ended up there, now that I think about it. There is a drop off right by the shore, at night when the tide is low it would have washed up there and not further up on the beach. It probably just got stuck down there, since during the day the tide is higher that cove is hidden." He smirked again. He was feeling useful right now. It was like almost working a case. The case of lost treasure or in this case, cargo from a plane.

"Is any of it going to be useful? It has been under water for a bit now. Unless it's, I don't know, hard metal or anything, we might have some trouble." John stopped as they finally reached the shore, his eye catching the glint almost instantly. "_Oh_," he whispered a bit as he started pulling his shorts and boxers off. "Let me go and look. You stay here in case anything happens," he moved forward, jumping into the water and diving down right away. It wasn't massive, but big enough for a torn suitcase. Bright pink, probably Maria...and was that Sherlock's? He resurfaced with a gasp, shaking his head to get his hair out of face. "Your suitcase is down here. Want it?"

"Maybe. It just depends on what it is." Sherlock frowned but stayed on the shore when John dived in. He waited impatiently for his husband to resurface. "Yes, it will have clothes. They won't smell good but once dry will be nice to have anyway. Bottles of lubricant in there too." He smirked. "Oh and knife. Never leave home without it. It isn't big, just one of those blades you can flip out, serrated edge. It will be useful for skinning meat, cutting vines. Things like that."

John really only needed to hear that lube was in the bag. Right, they needed it. He took a deep breath and went below the surface again, swimming past the pink suitcase and grabbing his husband's, giving it a sharp tug and smiling a bit as it came loose. He pulled it back to the surface and moved to shore, dumping it beside Sherlock with a small cough. "Going to grab Maria's suitcase," he muttered as he swam back out, returning a few minutes later with a horridly bright pink case. "Think the lube is still good?" He sat in the water, catching his breath.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at the pink suitcase. It reminded of the first time he met John. How his life had been forever altered since that day. His husband's question interrupted his reverie. "Hm? Oh, yes. It should be. As long as the bottles haven't spilled open or had a hole poked in them, I don't see why not." He fell silent, contemplative for a moment. "When the bottles are used up, we will be able to use them for other things. We would have to wash them out but, they should be okay."

"Use them for what? We should just fill them with fish oil when we are done. Don't need camp looking at our stuff," John muttered defensively. If anybody was going to die on this island it wouldn't be them. Period. They _would_ survive. He remained sitting in the water, looking back out toward the cove. "We could come and check this every morning, see if anything else gets pushed in there. Might be useful." He smiled a bit and ran a hand through his hair, wincing at how long it was getting. Hell, the stubble on his face was already making him frown.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Transporting water, drinking out of. We can save one for fish oil, but we don't to do that with all of them. We could just take the labels off. No one will know." He raised his eyebrows again, this time at the suggestion but nodded, even though it was unlikely anything would wash up. Unless something got shaken loose from the plane's wreckage. Well, maybe it would be worth a look once a day. "Yeah. That would be good."

John shifted slightly in the water, his back to his husband now as he hugged his knees to his chest. "I hate it out here because my first thought is survival. My first thought...it is me and you and sometimes." He shook his head and buried his face in his arms with a frustrated sigh. Sometimes he didn't care what the others did, if they died or starved. The island was driving him mad and making him focus on making sure that at least Sherlock made it off the island.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed a bit as he watched John. He found it surprising. Usually his husband was the one looking out for everyone else but himself, and it was he who usually ignored the rest of humanity. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who was changing, but he wasn't sure he liked this change in John. He couldn't say that, now he could he? "It is normal. You are fine my dear doctor."

"It _isn't_ normal, though. Sherlock. Not for me," John replied softly. "I'm a soldier, my job was make sure everybody around me was all right before myself and I was in bloody Afghanistan. But here, with you..." He swallowed hard. Jesus, this wasn't good. It never was when people started thinking like him. "Back in camp I can do it, you know? Worry about everybody. I gave up my rations for five meals for Thomas to eat before I could barely stand up. And then you woke up and I was going to do it all over again because I care about you. But the longer we are here, the more I realize we might not make it off...I am more worried about you."

"I'm fine. There is nothing to worry about. You can start worrying when we run out of food and wood, all right? But right now, even with being stuck on island things aren't that bad. Will they get worse the longer we stay here? The answer is undoubtedly and unequivocally _yes_. But you can't think like that John. You will drive yourself mad." Sherlock paused, frowning. "People need hope in times like these. If you give up on that, you might as well just throw in the towel here and now." He was always the more practical type but he knew that the human psyche needed things like hope. Otherwise, the person was defeated before the battle had even begun. Christ, he should be motivational speaker. God, but that would be so boring. Focus damn it. John needed him right now.

"I lose hope every day," John said weakly, his voice cracking. "Every morning I wake up on this blasted island and...my limp is coming back but I have been hiding it so nobody would worry." He shook his head. Damn it, this was not something he wanted to do. Ever. Sherlock couldn't know how weak he had gotten. "But nobody is going to find us. Right now it is just a waiting game to see who will make it the longest and it better be you, damn it, because if anybody deserves to go back to London it's you." There. It was out and he felt marginally better. "Can you shag me right now? Please?"

"I think you have forgotten who my brother is. He is a Holmes and Holmes _never_ gives up. Sure Mycroft can be a bit of bore but he has the same tenacity my father did." Usually Sherlock was the first one to agree to a shagging but now was not one of those times. He walked over to John and turned his husband around by the shoulders, so they were face to face. He had half a mind to slap him across the cheek and back into reality but he fought the urge. "John Hamish Watson, you were a doctor in the military. A _Captain_. What happened to that man? Is he so easily defeated? I think not. Come back to me my Love." It was hard to see John like this. So…crushed and disheartened. It reminded him of when they had been in the hospital in Egypt and his partner had almost let the trauma of being kidnapped destroy him. It didn't happen then; he wouldn't let it happen now.

John stared at Sherlock for a long moment before he slowly shook his head. God, Sherlock was right. Of course he was, no surprise there. "Strong," he whispered before leaning forward and burying his head into his husband's chest. Sherlock was strong and right now he just needed somebody to lean against and to support him. Positive. Don't fold under the pressure. "We will be fine. Mycroft is...Mycroft," he whispered with a bit of a laugh as his arms wound tightly around his husband's lower back. That was all he had to believe. At one point they would be rescued and everything would be all right. "You are so strong."

Sherlock smiled. "There is the man I know and love." He embraced John in a tight hug. He held onto his husband like that for a long while, before relinquishing the strong grip. He still held John close, his hands running along his husband's back soothingly. He gave his partner a kiss on the top of the head. "We should get back to camp. Finding the suitcases will help with morale of everyone there. Things will be less tense around there. Then when you come back from hunting, I am going to shag you into the sand and make you scream." He smirked down at John.

Hunting couldn't end soon enough, then. John smiled softly and stood on his toes to give his husband a quick kiss. "I can't wait," he whispered with a small blush. He pulled away from Sherlock slowly, grabbing the two suitcases and lifting them up as he started walking toward camp. "We have found things!" He shouted happily, the three adult survivors smiling happily. "Maria, I am sure you could share some of these with Kelly and Kevin, we've got Sherlock's so we've got some clothes." He set Maria's down between her shelter and Kelly and Kevin's before moving Sherlock's to their own shelter. Best to hide the lube for now with them being the gossip of camp and all. "Right then. Usual chores. Maria and Kelly, let's get some fire wood. Soak some for lunch to cook. We have got a snake, so a little extra food. Kevin, let's go check traps." He smiled widely as they both started heading toward the shore, chatting and laughing.

Sherlock followed after John to the camp. He smirked proudly. There. Better. For now. If things stayed bleak, it would happen again and it would be harder to pull his husband out of it. He turned to look at the vast sea. "Don't make a liar out of me dear brother," he muttered to himself before he moved to their shelter. He would work on improving the boys place first. Then the pregnant ladies and then the other woman's and theirs last. Lead by example. His husband needed to see that. Honestly, he had barely spoken two words to the other adults and could care less what happened to them. But John cared so he made it a point to make it matter to him too. He needed to make sure his husband didn't fall back into that rut.

The sun was near the top of the sky when John and Kevin returned with five fish. With yesterday's catch, a snake and one bird left over, they had enough for lunch and dinner if he skipped out on a meal. Not a problem, really. Lunch could be skipped in favor of Sherlock shagging his brains out. He watched as Kelly and Maria started putting firewood together and setting up the wet branches to cook the meat. Kevin took four fish and the snake to the fire and John went straight to his husband. "You can eat when we get back, yeah? Can we go now?" He stopped for a moment, glancing at all the shelters. Holy... "They look better. Yeah, um wow." He smiled a bit.

Sherlock had finished all the shelters but theirs by the time John got back. "They just need to be reinforced a bit, is all. They will hold up better now." Shagging now? He wasn't hungry anyway and he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't as eager as his husband. He nodded and walked to his suitcase. When he opened it, water spilled out everywhere. He sighed, and took out clothes that weren't ruined too horribly and left them to dry. He grabbed a bottle of lubricant, took John by the hand and lead them away from the camp.

"Check if it's all right," John muttered, reaching forward with his free hand and grabbing the bottle. He popped it open and winced when a bit of water came out but the lube was still there and, damn it, he wasn't stopping now. They made it to the center of the island, a few trees around them, and he turned to swiftly kiss his husband, standing on his toes as he roughly met Sherlock's mouth. Now. He wanted Sherlock now and hard and rough, just like he had been promised. He honestly couldn't control himself. "Fuck me, please. Hard. God, rough." He pressed against his husband as his hands moved sloppily between them to start undoing Sherlock's pants.

Sherlock smirked behind the kiss. Okay, so John was more eager than he was. His husband was probably in desperate need of stress relief and he could do something about it. Something he was more than happy to help with. He helped John get his pants and underwear off and then he took off his husband's shorts and boxers. He advanced on John aggressively in his excitement, backing his husband into the trunk of a tree. He continued the kiss, breathing through his nose and biting John's bottom lip.

John moaned loudly into Sherlock's mouth, arching into the warmth of his husband's body as the tree trunk dug into this skin. Fuck, it felt wonderful. All of it. And it was exactly what he needed. They had been so gentle the past couple weeks that now all he could about was Sherlock pounding into him and just using him because, Christ, it would help him focus, fix him. Banish those horrid thoughts. He felt like he might be asking a bit much of his husband but he suddenly couldn't care.

Sherlock smirked again; proud his advances were being well received. He moved his lips to John's neck where he began to bite and suck with a growl. He lifted a hand to scratch at his husband's chest roughly. John had said he wanted hard and rough, that was something he could comply with without any hesitation. It had been awhile and he still enjoyed rough sex. He pressed his body into his husband's, his hips bucking violently. He couldn't wait anymore. He took the lube and began applying it to his fingers. "Lay down," he commanded a little more brusquely than he meant as he took a few steps back. But God he was in control and he was eager to give John the pounding his husband was begging for.

Everybody at camp would know when they walked back. John didn't wear a shirt and the scratches would constantly be visible, the love bites on his neck. He glanced at Sherlock for a moment, his lips red, a growing spot on his neck, and red streaks down his chest, as he panted for breath. How did his husband want him? Rough. Stomach. John moved on to the ground, kneeling in the sand with his ass up in the air, elbows supporting him. He felt exposed but, Jesus, it was so worth it for what Sherlock would give him.

In his excitement, Sherlock had marked his husband without a single thought. When he saw the telling signs on John's skin he remembered that there would people back at camp who would see. Oh. Who cared? Let them talk. His thoughts had almost made him forget that he was supposed to be shagging his husband. He prepped John, roughly and quickly because he wanted to be inside his husband _now_. He dropped to his knees and did take the time to make sure his cock was slick with lubricant before he entered John with a quick thrust and a moan. He kept the pace and pressure the same. He wrapped his arms around his husband for support, his head leaning down to bit so he could bite John's shoulder blade.

"Oh, God!" John shouted without shame, his hands curling into fists as he grunted with each thrust. Perfect. It was perfect and what he needed and Sherlock was pounding the stress away. It hurt but the pain was nothing compared to the pleasure, to the feeling of Sherlock in him and above him. His thoughts were slowly fading into nothing but Sherlock. "Sherl-" He shouted and dropped his head, arching his back to get closer to his husband's mouth. The biting was wonderful and he wanted camp to know. Wanted Kevin to blush and Maria and Kelly to gossip.

Sherlock growled into John's shoulder as he sucked on the area he had been biting. His lips moved to the other shoulder, he wanted to mark every inch of his husband. He didn't care. He began thrusting harder and deeper into John, which caused him to grunt a bit from the exertion. God, this was turning out wonderful. A good, hard shagging. They had both needed this. He didn't last long after he started the rougher pace and after a few more thrusts he came with a loud moan before his body went lax against John. He moved one hand down from his husband's stomach and began jerking John off.

It was all so fast but so fucking wonderful. "Jesus, God." John slammed his hips back into Sherlock the moment his husband's hand was on his cock. Tight and rough and there were teeth and tongue and mouth. He couldn't think. How could anybody think with Sherlock touching him and relaxing against him like that? So warm and breathing heavily against his skin. It didn't take long and John came with a loud shout, some birds flying from the trees around them, as his arms gave out and he slid into the sand. Breathe. Deep breaths. He panted and moaned and let his eyes slip closed. "Sherlock."

"Didn't last long. Sorry," Sherlock murmured into John's shoulder as he dropped his hand and wiped it as clean as he could on the ground. He stayed slumped against his husband for now, enjoying their closeness still. No hurry to get up and go back to camp in his opinion. He wasn't hungry but maybe John was. His husband needed to eat to keep up much needed strength. He finally released John, rolling to the side to lay next to his husband. "Love you, that was amazing. Missed shagging you like that."

"Fine. 'S fine, really," John muttered as he tried to lift his head, letting it fall back into the sand with a small grunt. Jesus, that had been...absolutely amazing. Camp probably heard them but sod it, two people loving each other wasn't a crime. "I love you too," he replied as he turned his head and smiled lazily at his husband. "I think everybody knows I am yours now, yeah?" He quirked an eyebrow as he laughed gently, reaching a hand out to lazily run it up and down Sherlock's stomach. "You are wonderful," he whispered.

Sherlock smirked at John. "Damn straight. If they didn't hear us, then they will certainly know when we walk back there. Let them talk. I am used to people talking about me by now anyway. Only this time, I'm even more proud than usual about it." The smirk got bigger and he rolled to his side so he could kiss John on the lips. "I love you."

John smiled against Sherlock's lips, returning the kiss. "They heard. Oh, I _know_ they heard." He laughed softly and curled into his husband's body, pressing his face against Sherlock's chest. "It was good. We need to conserve our lube." He placed a soft kiss on the scar on the center of Sherlock's chest. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of the day but he knew that lunch was almost over. That meant camp and daily activities to ensure their survival. "Don't know if I am going to be able to walk straight," he giggled.

"Why Captain Watson, do you an escort back to camp to help you walk?" Sherlock smirked as he finally stood up. He grabbed the lubricant and put the lid back in place before redressing into his pants. "I just have our shelter left to reinforce. Then I will look for more grapes and almonds since we ate most of them last night. I still need to show the rest of the camp what is safe to pick and eat."

John groaned softly as he sat up, wincing at the movement. Jesus, he was feeling it. "Just a bit, yeah." He laughed and slowly stood up, slipping his boxers and shorts on slowly. "Ouch. Ouch." He laughed again and winced, glancing up at his husband sheepishly. Not only were his marks going to make it obvious but his walk, more of a waddle, was a dead giveaway. "You next time, Sex God."

Sherlock smirked again. "I suppose that can be arranged." He moved to support John and then began walking them back to the camp. Let them talk. Hell, he hoped they did. Honestly, it wasn't like they were doing anything illegal or scandalous. Just one more reason for ordinary people to annoy him. He helped his husband sit down in their shelter once they got there. "You should stay here the rest of the day. I can do whatever chores you have left."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note:

Finally, some conflict, but for once it isn't Sherlock and John fighting.

* * *

For a moment John tensed, looking up at Sherlock. Would it make him look weak? Would the camp start to think he wasn't a good leader? He tugged his bottom lip into his mouth and cleared his throat. "I should be fine," he said with a bit of a smile, forced and tight. He _couldn't_ look bad. The knowing look from Kelly and the blush from Kevin made him drop his gaze. "I will be fine. Just...a bit of a rest. I just need to reset the traps, that is it." He nodded.

Sherlock frowned but nodded slowly. They were both proud and stubborn men. It was amazing they both were willing to compromise so often, at least with each other. Anyone who looked at him, he would just look back and smirk. As if daring them to say something. No one did. Yeah, that was what he thought. He began reinforcing their shelter, taking his time on it since really he didn't have much else to do. Teaching them about the plants shouldn't take long either, so for him there was no rush. Maybe he would waste the time making the boy that teeth necklace.

No argument. They were really moving forward, weren't they? John smiled a bit and reached a hand out, running it gently up and down his husband's calf. "Thank you, though," he said softly. "For offering, I mean. It's nice of you." The smile on his face was warm and genuine, one that he hadn't felt since they had crashed. After a few moments of studying Sherlock he stood up, clearing his throat to hide the pain, and looked around. "Won't take me too long to get the traps set." He shrugged. "Not a busy day, really. Best ones." He leaned forward and pecked Sherlock's cheek. "Love you."

Sherlock smiled back. "Of course. If you think you can do it, then I believe you. Just be careful. Love you too." He returned the kiss on the cheek and then resumed adding reeds and cattails to their small make shift shelter.

Thomas had hopped from his shelter to theirs. His eyes were wide and curious as he looked up at Sherlock. "Why everyone keep lookin' at ya?"

"Because T.C., that is the nickname I have come up for you since you are Thomas Curtis. Anyway, it is because they apparently don't know how to mind their own business."

John disappeared into the forest, Kevin in two with a small laugh as the two started to talk.

"You two should really try to keep it down," Maria said with a bit of a sneer, studying Sherlock with a raised brow. "Really? The entire island could hear. And did you have to make him look so obvious..." She glanced at Thomas and shook her head. "Shagged?" It was whispered, like a word that should never be said.

"Really, is that how you thank the people who catch your food and make your shelters for you? Don't they have manners where you come from, Maria isn't it? _Honestly_, if you have any problems then feel free to do that all on your own. We are in no way obligated to help you, so remember that the next time you feel the need to be a judgmental, condescending…witch." It wasn't the word Sherlock would have used but Thomas was still standing there and staring at them both with wide eyes. He gave her smile that was far from pleasant.

Maria tensed almost instantly, looking at Sherlock before narrowing her eyes. "He is supposed to be our leader, _Sherlock_, isn't it? You can't just keep dragging him away to bum him. It is a distraction and could hurt the rest of us! Why are you being so selfish?" She took a step forward and placed a finger at the center of his chest with a small push. "Stop distracting him, we need him focused and ready to go, not being led around by your dick."

"Watch your tongue in front of the boy," Sherlock warned with a growl, his own eyes narrowing. "And if you must know, even though it isn't any of your business, he asked me to shag him. Who am I to deny my _husband_ such a request? I don't care what you or anyone else here thinks and neither does John. So, next time you need something don't ask either of this because I can guarantee you that neither of us will help you. All because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. Congratulations and good luck surviving out here on your own. Now, get out of my house." He had taken a step closer to the woman, standing his full height in an intimidating fashion.

Thomas puffed up to stand next to Sherlock, trying to glare like the taller man. "Yeah! Quit being mean to my Daddy!" Oops. Oh no, would the man with the funny name be mad at him for calling him that?

"Sherlock! Maria!" John darted out of the forest, ignoring the pain in his body to slide between them. He looked up at his husband breathlessly, giving him a gentle push backward. He had heard Thomas, smiled a bit, before turning back to Maria. Shit. A fight was _not_ what camp needed. "What is... what's going on?"

"You two!" Maria practically screeched, throwing her arms up. "Shagging so everybody could hear, coming back here like that." She shoved John gently and he stumbled back into his husband with a soft grunt. "How appropriate is that, really? There are other people here, including _the boy_."

"Oi, calm do-" John froze and stumbled back. Maria had slapped him roughly across the face, her fingernails digging into his skin and leaving for defining scratch marks that were already bleeding.

Sherlock let out a vicious snarl as soon Maria had shoved John into him. He moved around his husband instantly and grabbed the woman's wrist with more force and strength than was actually needed. "Don't you _ever _touch John again. Now, _leave_ because if you don't I will snap your wrist like a twig do you understand?" Maybe they should just move to the other side of the island, because fights erupting like this weren't good for anyone.

Thomas took a step back from the adults, his eyes wide and breathing heavy. He was still feeling indignant of the treatment to the men taking care of him so he yelled some more. "Quit being mean lady! Mister John didn't do nuffin to you!"

Maria gasped and tried to pull away from Sherlock, his grip strong as he spoke. When she finally managed to get free she shook her head, glaring at John and Sherlock before stomping away to her shelter, sitting down, and looking out at the water.

"T-Thomas, go sit down." John stumbled slightly to the side as a hand moved instantly to his cheek, mopping up at much blood as he could manage with his bare hand. God, it was stinging and it hurt. "It is fine. Look, you scared her off. Good job," he muttered.

Sherlock glared right back and had to fight the urge to chase after her and strangle the bitch to death. He managed a small smile as he looked down at Thomas briefly and gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. "That a boy T.C. We showed her, didn't we?" He looked over to John, a small frown appearing as he saw the blood. That woman was lucky she was still breathing.

Thomas beamed proudly from the praise, his chest puffing out. "Mister John! Lemme help! You helped me, lemme get leaves like you did. Sit down Mister John!" He looked up at John with wide, serious eyes.

Jesus. John stumbled slightly and sat down, closing his eyes for a long moment and moving to lay down. It hurt. The Hell did that woman have on her fingernails? His head was pounding and his cheek was stinging and bleeding. "Fuck," he muttered, not caring if Thomas heard. What else could he do? He groaned again and opened his eyes to look at his husband for a long moment.

Shit. Apparently the scratch was worse than he thought. Sherlock glanced at the leaves John had used on Thomas and memorized their size, shape and color. "I will be right back Love. Just sit and rest." He bent down and kissed his husband on the head. "T.C. keep an eye on 'Mister John' for me all right? I am going to get some leaves." He ruffled the boy's hair like he had seen his husband do and then left the shelter

"Mummy said that a bad word…is that true?" Thomas looked up at John, his eyes still wide.

Oh, Thomas. Adorable and inquisitive in the face of a fight. "Yeah, it is a bad word. Don't ever use it," John said with a small smile. "Sometimes daddies say bad words because they are in pain. But you don't, okay Thomas?" He reached his free hand up to rest on the boy's cheek in a gentle caress. "Do you have family back in Cardiff, Thomas? An aunt or uncle or anything?"

Thomas nodded. "Okay Mister John!" He wanted nothing more than to please both men. They were both so nice to him. Adults usually just ignored him, but they hadn't. He shook his head at the question. "I dun think so. Mummy never took me to see 'em. Said I was her special little boy." He shrugged a bit and finally sat down. He wouldn't say so, but his ankle was starting to hurt. He leaned his head into John's arm. "Dun like that lady Mister John. She's mean…" His lip puckered in a pout.

Right. So...Thomas really was alone. John moved his arm slightly and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders. "Don't talk bad about people. Even if they are mean, never talk about them. It isn't nice." He smiled down at the little boy. Alone, no family. He had to tell Sherlock. Hell, Thomas had already called him daddy. They had already considered it. "What is your favorite color, Thomas?"

"But! She says means things about you guys! She told me that you two are gay, that it's wrong and you gonna burn in Hell. She said I'd end up a…a….fa-faggot?" Thomas creased his brows and looked up at John for confirmation. "Said you was a bad in-influ-influence…" he stumbled over the word but kept going "…and that I be like you and go Hell too. Mister John, I dun wanna go to Hell." He curled against John a little more. Before the boy could answer the question he looked up at Sherlock.

Sherlock had heard everything Thomas had said. He ground his teeth together. His husband needed to be take care of. He let out a breath, trying to calm his temper. Just concentrate on taking care of John. Right. "Hold still Love, this may sting." He picked up a leaf and wiped it gently across his husband's face.

John couldn't tell if his blood was boiling or if it felt like he had been doused with ice water. Honestly, they had never dealt with anything like that and now...now Thomas was hearing it. "Shh, Thoma- Ah!" He tensed and slammed his eyes shut. "T-Thomas, it's all right. Just ignore her and I promise you won't go to Hell," he managed to get out between gritted teeth. Jesus. Sting was an understatement. He took a deep calming breath. "Do you have a problem with both of us being daddies, Thomas?" The question was soft as his hand ran soothingly up and down the boy's arm.

Thomas shook his head. "No, want two daddies.! I never hadda one, now I gots two. What is it? Make up for lost time?" He was certain his Mummy had said that before.

So, John was upset as well. "Sorry," Sherlock murmured but got a clean leaf and wiped away some more blood. The bitch had gotten his husband good. Christ, what were nails made out of? Steel? He sighed at his thoughts, certain that someone was going to die before they were rescued and it should as hell wouldn't be anyone in this shelter.

"'S okay," John said with a smile, shifting to give his husband a soft kiss. "Taking care of me, what more could I ask from my husband?" And he said it proudly, like he wanted everybody to know that they were married. Two blokes, married like a normal couple. It was nothing out of the ordinary. He glanced at Thomas and smiled. "That's right, you have got two daddies now. Sherlock and me, we are going to look after you." He hesitated before placing a soft kiss in the boy's hair, looking at Sherlock for a long moment. "We will just have to watch these, make sure they don't get infected," he whispered before turning his gaze toward Maria, still sitting in her shelter with her back to them.

Thomas yawned big, closed his eyes and fell asleep against John. All of the excitement had worn him out.

Sherlock managed a small smile. "I will talk to Mycroft once we get rescued. Have him make all the arrangements for adoption. He'll be able to push the paper work through, with his _minor_ role in the government." This made him smirk as he finished wiping the blood away. "I can tie the leaves into place with a piece of clothing but you will look ridiculous." That was up to his husband really. He didn't like it when John tried to make him do things so he should work on not doing it his partner. Why was it that they grew in their relationship best after something terrible happened?

Adoption. John grinned at the little boy curled against him and nodded lightly. "He and Amy will have to share a room, y'know that? We have only got two and I refuse to move." He looked up at his husband and considered Sherlock's words. "Maybe tonight before we-I sleep? Right now it will need to just. I need to do things." He gave Sherlock another kiss. God, they were expanding their family, taking in a little kid who was already wiggling his way into John's heart. "Would we change his name? Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald Watson-Holmes is kind of a mouthful." But right now he was just talking, keeping his gaze locked on his husband happily. "I love you."

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "I think that should be up to him, don't you?" He gave a small shrug. "There is that room downstairs…where Moriarty left those shoes. He can live in the basement, it will be like his own…fort, wasn't it? I can make arrangements with Mrs. Hudson. When he is older anyway and we won't have to worry about him." He sat down opposite of John. "You said you were going to take it easy after the traps were reset. I can do whatever else that needs to be done. You should just take it easy the rest of the day. Besides, if you move you might wake up the boy."

"Can we get it cleaned? It was horrid down there," John replied softly as he glanced at Thomas. They were really doing this. Thomas was going to be their child. Would he like it? Like London and their home...and Amy? "I didn't know... she, Sherlock, I'm sorry." He frowned and kept his gaze locked intently on Sherlock's chest. "I didn't know she was saying those things and you didn't deserve any of that because I asked you to...I asked for that moment and..." He shook his head and finally met his husband's gaze. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock raises his eyebrows. "My dear doctor, why are you the one apologizing? She is the one that went crazy for no reason other than her own bigotry. She is the one who should be apologizing, not you Love." He leaned forward and kissed John gently on the lips. "I thought about moving somewhere else on the island, but I don't think it would really solve anything. That, and I don't like losing. Especially to the likes of her." He gave a faint smirk.

"You don't deserve any of that," John explained against Sherlock's lips before shrugging. "You deserve better than some woman talking to you like that because...because we are in love and I don't view it as anything other than that at all." He figured he would explain it enough before looking around their camp. "We are not moving. Just because Maria views us like that doesn't mean that we can leave Kelly and Kevin. They are fine with us, think it is endearing. Kevin's even asked me for relationship advice." He laughed a bit, glancing at the couple napping under their shelter. "And she's pregnant, we can't just do that." He cleared his throat and looked down at Thomas. "I love this kid, Sherlock."

"There _isn't_ anything wrong with it John. People are just…stupid," Sherlock muttered darkly. She had clearly upset him. He had been willing to let her walk away but she just had to touch his husband and then all bets were off. Just the thought riled him up again. On top of that, all those things she said to Thomas. She was lucky she didn't have more than just a sore wrist. No point in brooding about it anymore. However, if she started something again he wouldn't be so nice. His husband admission brought him out of his thoughts. He gave a slight smile to John. "Yeah, think he is growing on me too. He called me 'daddy' today."

"Yeah, he did," John whispered as he studied the sleeping boy. He had yet to earn that right but Thomas had bonded with Sherlock first so he couldn't be too hurt about it. He looked back up at his husband. Their relationship had never made him feel so...protective. They had never had anybody say that to them...to their face, at least. Hearing it, actually hearing it, made his gut twist. It was Sherlock. His _husband_. And, damn it, there was nothing wrong with it. "I should go up to her and tell her how wonderful your cock is and what an amazing shag you are," he said softly with a smirk, his eyebrow raised.

Sherlock smirked back. "As much as I would love to see her reaction to that, we probably shouldn't make things worse. We are going to have to live with her for God knows how long. I did tell her I wouldn't help her with anything and I intend to keep to that though. When I reinforced her shelter, she didn't thank me. She just stared at me like I was abomination. Which, frankly I am used to. I misread her John but I saw her for who she really was the moment she stalked up to me." He fell quiet for a moment. "I think I'm losing my touch." The thought actually scared him. Deducing was what he did, something he was the _best _at. He was taking on a case first thing when they got back to London. He needed it and missed it more than he realized until now.

"You aren't losing your touch," John said instantly, shaking his head. "Sherlock, I...I talked to her and she talked back to me when she knew we were married but you were still passed out," he muttered with a small blush. They had all misread her, apparently. It should have shocked him but he was used to it. For Sherlock, though... "You aren't losing your touch. Sherlock, she was just really good at hiding things and it scares me because...God, I don't know what she's capable of." He swallowed hard and tightened his hold on Thomas. "Apparently she has hated us for a while. And the fact that she told that to him, that he would go to Hell." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth with a soft grunt.

"People can't hide things from me!" Sherlock was agitated and he hadn't meant to yell but God damn it that woman had really irked him. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you." He had decided he wasn't going to sleep the rest of the time. He didn't trust that woman at all and all be damned if she was going to do anything while he was on watch. "People like that think that everyone should think and feel like they do. Everyone else is wrong, screw the rest of the world." He couldn't help but smirk a bit. "I think what bothers me, is that I was like that before I met you." There. He was talking about it. Communication. Work on being a better husband. He had promised John after all.

Oh. John's head shot up and his mouth was slightly open. _That's_ what was wrong with the situation. Sherlock saw a bit of himself in that horrid woman. "Sherlock, I have hidden things from you. Drinking after my second tour in Iraq...so many things that you still don't know. And right now you aren't focused on reading people or any of that, you are focused on surviving. It isn't...horrible. It's being a bit human." He shrugged the best he could without moving Thomas. "You are still the man I fell in love with, still wonderful and a bit emotionally stunted but I don't care because you're perfect for me and if some arrogant sod wants to think that we are disgusting then she obviously hasn't seen you with your shirt off."

Sherlock shrugged and finally nodded. He just wanted to be a child and pou. Sulking never really solved anything but it made him feel better after awhile. He wanted to curl into John for comfort but Thomas was there. Jealous of a small child. Great. He sighed at his thoughts. "I am going to go for a walk. You will be okay?" No stalking off. They weren't doing that anymore either. It wasn't the first time he hated being an adult about things.

Something was wrong and apparently John had either made it worse or started the issue without realizing it. "Yeah, of course." He nodded a bit and forced a smile on his face. "Go ahead. Be safe please." He relaxed the best he could so Thomas could be comfortable but kept his gaze locked on Sherlock. God, he wanted to help his husband but the man was stubborn and, really, he could only do so much.

Sherlock hesitated but nodded. "We'll talk later tonight." He leaned forward and gave John a quick kiss before he got up and walked off. Maybe he would explore the other end of the island today after all. He began walking the length of the beach, heading west.

Thomas had slowly been awakened when he had heard Sherlock yell but he hadn't stirred until now. He had pretended to be asleep so he could listen to the adults talk. He used to do it all the time when Mummy had guests over. He didn't really follow the conversation very well. Grownups were weird.

"Fake sleeping," John muttered with a small smile as he glanced at the little boy, brow raised. "Good one." It didn't take long for him to realize Thomas was awake. A change in breathing pattern and a stiffness in the muscles one only had when awake. "We talked about you meeting our daughter while you slept," he said as he reached across his body and ran a hand through the boy's hair.

Thomas sat up with wide eyes. How had John known? Was he in trouble? He relaxed a little when it appeared that wasn't the case. "I wanna go London!" His small chest heaved in excitement at just the thought. "What do babies do? Aren't they….boring?" He nestled back against John because it was warm.

John laughed a bit. That was a good way to describe an infant, he figured. "She cries a bit. We feed her. I have seen her smile." He shrugged. These were things that made _him_ happy, though, simply because he was Amy's father. "To you I figure Amy might be a bit boring, yes. But she is in London and I think you will enjoy the city."

"It big? Are there lotsa cars and people?" Thomas was getting excited again. He frowned for a moment. "Mister John…do…do you think we gonna leave? Will I gets to see London? I dun wanna live on an island with a mean lady." He bowed his head, biting his lip. "Sorry," he muttered. He wasn't supposed to say mean things about other people.

In that moment John's heart sank. Positive. He needed to stay positive for the little boy. "Of course, Thomas. We are going to get off of this island and we will take you to London. You'll... God, you'll love it. It's _massive_. And we can go get fish and chips," he whispered as his eyes slipped closed and he pictured Baker Street. "Thomas...you'll love it."

Thomas nodded emphatically. "Can't wait to go!" He fell quiet once more, his brown eyes serious again. "What…what happen to me when I leave? I dun have nobody. Can…can I live with you? I see London all da time?" He began gnawing on his lip again. What if John said no? He would all alone. The thought made him tear up and he began crying.

"Shhh." John wrapped both of his arms around Thomas and placed a soothing kiss on top of the boy's head. For a while he had wanted it to be a surprise to the little boy but now he was crying and, really, he couldn't disappoint Thomas. "Sherlock and I are going to adopt you, Thomas. We are going to be your daddies," he whispered with a small smile, moving so he could meet the young boy's gaze. "We want you to live with us."

Thomas sniffled and looked up at John. "R-really? A-adop-adopted?" He tried out the new word with some difficulty. Live with them? He broke out into a grin, and wrapped his arms around John in tight hug. "Will be good for you! Dun leave me alone." He clung to John desperately for a little while.

"Of course not, Thomas. We could never leave you," John whispered in a low tone, holding on to the boy just as desperately. They both needed this. A little comfort. Hope. "We have got a room and you will be with Amy for a bit. She's going to be your younger sister now," he said with a warm smile. This was happening. Thomas was part of their family now. "You are going to be our son."

"Never had a sister or daddies. Will be da best family ever! In the whole wide world!" Thomas released the tight hold and looked up to John with a grin. He frowned in thought as he came up with another question. "If you's both my daddies…do…I call you both that?" So new. Different. But…what if they didn't like him after awhile? Would they get rid of him?

Well, that was a question John didn't know how to answer. He had figured that Amy would call him 'Dad' and that Sherlock would be 'Papa,' something he had been using around both of them. "I...don't know. We will figure it out when Sherlock is back, yeah? We can talk about it tonight while you rest." He licked his lips and ruffled the boy's hair, turning to gently tickle him. "You are going to be a wonderful son," he laughed.

Thomas' eyes went wide. He had never heard an adult say they didn't know. Grownups were supposed to know everything. He nodded anyway and giggled from the tickling.

Sherlock had detoured off the shore and backtracked to the food supply. Might as well do something useful while he was away. He picked up the basket and gathered some more grapes and almonds to replace the ones he and John had eaten. He returned the camp after that. The boy was up and laughing. That was good he supposed.

John rolled them, gently pinning Thomas to the ground while tickling him. "Grrr," he muttered before lowering his mouth and blowing against the boy's stomach. Right now this was _exactly_ what he needed. Some fun, watching Thomas enjoy himself. The innocence of the small child on the island was definitely a bit of a stress relief. He lifted his head up and laughed himself.

Thomas kept giggling and squealing with joy from all the attention and tickling.

Sherlock didn't want to interrupt John and the boy. He walked back in toward the center of island, took the snake from pile and began prying the teeth loose. Some came easier than others and some took work, to the point his fingers would slip and prick against the small razors. It drew blood at times but he didn't seem to care. He was going to need the knife to make holes, so they could be strung up on a thin vine. He threw the toothless corpse back on the pile of food, shoved the teeth in his pocket, picked a suitable vine and then walked back to camp. He approached the shelter slowly.

It didn't take long for John to slowly sit up, grinning down at Thomas, _his son_, and taking a deep breath. "Goodness. I am an old man, Thomas, I'm going to need a rest." He turned slightly and noticed his husband, a warm smile on his lips. It vanished completely when he noticed blood on Sherlock's hands. "Dear, you all right?" He stood up and moved forward the best he could manage in the sand. "Sherlock..." He grabbed one of his husband's hand and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as he inspected the small cuts all over Sherlock's fingers.

Even after John had stopped, Thomas was still giggling and squirming on the ground for a little while longer.

"Just small cuts, I will be fine. Pulled the teeth off the snake for my little project." Sherlock smirked and tilted his head toward Thomas. "Just came to get my knife from my suitcase to put holes in them. It will take time, probably won't be done until after dinner tonight. It will give me something to do." He needed to keep busy. Even if it wasn't something amazing. Sitting idle was never something he did well, it made him restless.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! Glad you all liked that last chapter!

* * *

John smiled a bit and stood on his toes and gently meet his husband's lips, much to the clear disgust of Maria who made quite the noise behind them. Oh, this would be wonderful. He wrapped one arm around Sherlock's neck, his hand turning to tug at his husband's hair, before his other hand squeezed Sherlock's ass he pulled the man's body forward slightly.

Sherlock smirked again when he heard Maria behind them. It looked like John wanted to put on a little show and he was more than happy to go along with it. He pressed back into his husband with a moan. God, his hair was being pulled. It was pretty much his favorite thing that John did that wasn't shagging. He wrapped his arms around his husband, scratching along John's back as he moved in for another kiss.

Scratching. Right, they needed to stop or it would lead to John wanting to be shagged. He pulled away from the kiss slowly and smiled weakly. God, that was... "Show off," he muttered softly, giving his husband a quick peck on the tip of his nose. It took a long moment for him to pull himself away from the warmth of his husband's body but now Kelly was on her own collecting firewood. He had watched Maria refuse to help, and he should at least pitch in. "Going to go help gather firewood. I love you." He grinned and turned to head off into the forest.

"Shouldn't have pulled my hair!" Sherlock called off after John with a smirk. He ignored Maria and moved to their shelter. "Hey, T.C. I am making you a surprise, so why don't you be a good boy and go to your shelter for a bit. I will have it ready for you before dinner tonight."

Thomas brightened instantly. "A surprise? Yay!" He would have jumped up and down in joy but his ankle was still hurting. He was just about to hobble away but stopped. "It okay to call you Daddy?"

Oh. Right. They were going to adopt Thomas. "Sure, that would be fine. Yeah. I would like that Thomas."

"T.C.!" Thomas corrected with a giggle and then walked back to his small shelter.

John returned after a while, laughing with Kelly who gently handed her sticks over and stood on her toes to place a friendly kiss on his cheek. He moved and dumped the small supply they had decided to gather and took some down to the water, soaking them and setting them over the firewood before starting the fire. He glanced back up at his husband with a warm, loving smile. "Oi, wonderful husband, I want to snog you!" The yell made Kelly and Kevin erupt in laughter.

Sherlock smirked. "Of course you do, I am amazing and perfect. You can't keep your hands off of me. Not that I want you to." The smirk got bigger as he set down the vine with teeth on it. It was about half done. He could finish it while everyone was eating. He closed the knife and set it to the side. "Well, come on then. You don't want to keep your husband waiting do you?"

"Walk down here!" John shouted in reply as he took a step back and let the water wash over his feet.

Maria stood in her shelter looking positively horrified, glancing between Kelly, a woman she had considered her best friend, and John. Right, she was certainly not going to be part of their camp anymore. Not willingly, at least.

John smiled a bit and shrugged, looking around before letting his eyes settle on Sherlock. "C'mon!"

"Oh I see, make me walk to you then!" Sherlock laughed and walked down to John. He wrapped his arms around his husband immediately. "There, better my Love?" He smirked and met the other man's lips for a slow kiss. He pressed their foreheads together, his fingers trailing along John's back gently.

John nodded slightly, eyes closed as he relaxed against his husband. "So much better," he whispered with a smile. If he closed his eyes, with his feet in the water, he could pretend they were still on their honeymoon and it made him grin. "Thank you, Sherlock. For...everything. You are the best man anybody could ask to marry." He pulled his husband closer, his arms tight around Sherlock's neck. "Don't ever leave me. Please. Don't."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows a bit at John and he pulled his head away a bit to get a better look at his husband. "I won't. Not ever. I love you." He kissed John's nose. Had something happened to upset John? Or was his husband just in need of comfort and reassurance right now? He embraced John tighter, their heads coming together once more.

"Good. I wouldn't let you leave anyway." John grinned like an idiot and placed a gentle kiss against his husband's neck. "Kelly and Kevin...they want to stay with us. They are lovely so we can't...we can't leave. The five of us, we will do fine without that git," he muttered as his hips pressed forward slightly against Sherlock. He couldn't help himself, really. Sherlock was there and he was hard.

Ah. Sherlock was going to say something but that was John's erection pressing into him and it felt wonderful. He let out a small whimper. Were they going to shag again so soon? He wasn't opposed to the idea by any means but his husband had mentioned something about wanting to save the lubricant. He pressed back into John, meeting his husband's lips once more.

Oh, good. John smiled against Sherlock's lips, eagerly returning the kiss. They couldn't exactly do anything out here. Kelly and Kevin were fine with their relationship but rutting against each other in the middle of camp probably wouldn't sit well with anybody. "Tonight?" He whispered softly, pulling away from his husband's lips to press kisses down the man's neck. "Don't have to actually shag just...stress," he muttered.

Sherlock tilted his neck for John. "Tonight then. You can shag me, if you want. I don't think you could take another pounding." He smirked a bit and turned his head to meet his husband's lips yet again. "Come on. They will be starting to prepare lunch soon. We should probably help and stop making out like newlyweds, although technically we are." He smirked again, gave John a quick kiss on the nose and then lead them out of the water.

John followed after his husband with a small smile, holding his husband's hand tightly. Kelly and Kevin had already put the snake, two fish, and the left over bird on the fire. It smelled amazing and his stomach lurched forward, growling loudly. Damn, he was hungry. "Hungry tonight?" He asked his husband curiously as he sat down next to the fire.

"Probably just have that juice I made yesterday. Do you want me make you some? Maybe the other couple would want some too? I would just need to find a few more shells. There should be enough of the fruit in the basket already to make enough for everyone." Sherlock gave a small shrug. Keep busy. Find things to do. Having an idle mind on an island where you are fighting for survival wasn't a good habit to get into.

"That would be perfect," John said softly, his smile wide. "Please. It would probably make everybody very happy. And then tonight we could get some more water to clean." He gave his husband a quick kiss on the cheek before taking his share of food. Half of a fish and a fourth of the bird. "Thomas, dinner!" He shouted to the young boy, taking Sherlock's portion and holding it in his free hand for their new son.

Sherlock nodded and went off in search of more shells that would be big enough and deep enough to hold a decent amount of liquid.

Thomas scampered out of his shelter and did a limping jog toward the food. He was hungry. He took his portion and ate at it in quick gulps, barely taking the time to chew. With a mouthful he looked up to John and asked, "Skip stones?"

Kelly couldn't help but laugh as she watched Thomas eat, her hand resting naturally on her slightly growing stomach. John smiled warmly at the little boy, feeling his heart swell at the thought of Thomas growing up with them. "Son you have got to eat slower," he whispered before nodding his head. "Let me finish eating, wait for Sherlock and I will teach you how to skip stones."

"Hungry," Thomas said through another mouthful of food. He had been constantly hungry since coming to the island. He wasn't allowed to eat all the time and the portions were small. He grinned and nodded excitedly, still wolfing down his food.

It didn't take Sherlock long really, to find enough shells. The beach had quite a few really. He grabbed the basket from the food hold and walked back to camp. He prepared the juice, handing out shells to everyone to drink from.

John laughed and accepted the shell from his husband, drinking the juice slowly. "Thank you, dear." He smiled and watched Kelly and Kevin who drink their juice in hurried and vocal gulps. Apparently they liked it. He couldn't help but grin at Thomas. "Any plans for the night, Sherlock? I am going to take our son down to the shore to skip some rocks if you would like to join."

Thomas drank the liquid much like he had eaten, swallowing it all in two big gulps. He clung to Sherlock's pant leg, tugging on it a bit. "Daddy, you should come with us!" He looked up at the much taller man with begging puppy dog eyes.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "I have to finish your surprise, T.C. Tomorrow maybe. You can show me everything you learned from John, okay?" He wasn't sure what he had done for the boy to grow so attached to him so quickly. His husband had spent more time with the child than he had.

"Okay!" Thomas did a hobbling run over to John. "Other Dad! We go now?"

"Oi! I'm not other Dad!" John laughed and picked Thomas up, resting the boy against his hip with ease. "Just call me Dad, yeah? Amy is going to call Sherlock Papa." He placed a soft kiss on his new son's forehead and looked at Sherlock. "We'll be back soon," he whispered before giving his husband a quick kiss. "Be patient, yeah?" A quick glance around camp, and he noticed Maria's shelter was empty. He carried Thomas down to the shore. "Okay, mate. Go pick some rocks." He set the boy down gently.

Thomas frowned trying to understand why Amy would call Sherlock Papa and not Daddy, like he did. He was easily distracted from his thoughts when asked to pick out some rock. He grabbed a few in each hand, all varying in size and shape.

Sherlock watched Thomas and John for a moment before walking back to their shelter. It was weird to him to think that the boy was going to be their son. His husband seemed excited about though, so he supposed he should too. It wasn't that he was against the idea, it had just happened rather quickly. He wasn't used to sudden change. He sighed at his thoughts, and set about the task of finishing the snake teeth necklace for Thomas.

"Right, so..." John grabbed a rock from the boy's hand. "This one is perfect, Thomas. It is flat and not too heavy. These are the types of rocks you want." After tossing it in the air a few times he stood up straight. "Now watch." He situated his hand around the rock so his thumb and index finger held it before he twisted at the waist, fully extended his arm, and tossed the rock. It skipped several times across the water before sinking. "It is a whole body motion, yeah?" He went through the collection of rocks Thomas had made and found another good one. "Here, try," he said softly as he crouched down to be at the boy's level.

Thomas frowned in concentration. This seemed to be harder than he thought. He watched John closely, the frown remaining. He dropped all the rocks except for the one John had picked out. He tried to copy his new dad's throw and managed to get it to skip twice. He squealed loudly in excitement.

This was one of the most uplifting moments John had experienced since landing on the island. He laughed and picked Thomas up, spinning him around happily. "There you go! Look at that!" He grinned and pulled the boy tightly against his chest with a foolish grin. Already teaching him things. Hell, maybe he would like rugby, too. "Do you like to play sports, Thomas?"

Thomas giggled when he was spun around. He shook his head. "Mummy said they was waste of time, so never gotta play." Really, he hadn't been allowed outside much, not without supervision but his mother rarely had time for him. He sighed heavily. "I miss my Mummy." He sniffled, running his arm under his nose. "Sleep with you tonight?" He looked up at John, as he sniffled again.

Oh. Sleep with them? John glanced back up at Sherlock. They had...plans...but now Thomas was near crying and, really, they would have to get used to it once Amy started getting bigger. "I...yeah, of course, kiddo," he said with a small smile. How in the world could he say no? In reality, the boy's shelter was located right next to theirs but he had just lost his Mum, he was scared. "How about sometime I teach you how to play rugby?"

Thomas smiled back. He didn't like sleeping alone. It was scary. "Rugby?" He echoed back. He had seen it on the telly once, but his mother had quickly changed the channel. "Mummy said it a sport for sav-sava-savages." All these long, hard words today were just beyond his understanding.

"Do I look like a savage to you, Thomas?" John asked as he held the boy close to his chest and started moving back to the camp. "I played rugby for seven years before I went in the Army and I am not a savage at all," he muttered as they approached his husband. "Don't look, kiddo. Wouldn't want to ruin your surprise." The disappointment was evident on his face as he studied Sherlock, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth.

"Dunno what a sav-savage is..." Thomas muttered as he followed John.

Sherlock looked up when he heard them coming toward the shelter. He frowned at the look on John's face. "Something wrong my dear doctor?"

"Thomas is sleeping with us tonight," John replied smoothly. God, it should upset him and he shouldn't be so damn selfish. This was a step forward in learning how to be a father and it was something they would both need to get used to. "So... yeah..." He cleared his throat and glanced at the little boy. "Are you tired, Thomas?"

Oh. Sherlock gave a slight nod of understanding. This definitely wasn't helping his jealousy of the boy. He was just being stupid and selfish wasn't he? He wanted to stop being an adult and storm off like an angry child and sulk alone.

Thomas was too excited about his surprise to be tired. He shook his head, as he tried not to peek.

John dropped his gaze to the small gift in Sherlock's hand. Maybe when Thomas fell asleep they could sneak away. It was wishful thinking. "I love you." He smiled a bit and crouched down to give his husband and soft kiss, slow as his tongue ran across Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock managed a faint smile, as he returned the kiss. "Love you too." He looked around John and over to Thomas. "Here." He held out his hand, holding the necklace. "A trophy from the snake you killed for dinner."

Thomas stared at it wide eyed for a moment before he took and put it over his neck. He wiggled around John, crawled into Sherlock's lap and gave him a big hug.

Uh. Sherlock was a bit surprised by the overzealous response but he managed a small awkward hug in return.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful and dinner came and went. It was time for the camp to sleep.

John doused the fire and saving any branches they could use for the next day. Maria's shelter was still empty and for some reason his stomach lurched. Despite her words he was hoping she wasn't injured, wasn't dead. It was just the soldier in him, he figured. "Right then. See you two tomorrow morning." He smiled warmly at Kelly and Kevin who were already moving toward their shelter. He remained near the fire pit for a long time, hands on his hips and head tilted back so he could watch the darkening sky.

Thomas had pretty much followed Sherlock around all day, and come night fall the boy was in his lap. Thomas finally fell asleep. He shifted slightly, so he could be more comfortable with the boy on him. His gaze moved over to John and he would have gotten up to do some snogging and snuggling with his husband. He thought about laying Thomas down in the bed of leaves but he would probably end up waking the child up.

After several minutes John finally let his arms fall to his side, his head turning to glance at Sherlock and Thomas. It would be best to try and get some sleep because hunting tomorrow might take all day. Meat was running low and he knew he would have to check the fish trap multiple times and try to get some birds or other animals. He sighed, scrubbed a hand through his hair, and slowly made his way back toward their shelter. "Going to get some sleep. If you get tired just wake me up, yeah? I'll take him." He sat down next to his husband roughly, leaning over to softly meet Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock returned the kiss and then nodded. "I will be fine. You should get some sleep." He wanted to snuggle in next to his husband but he couldn't. Not with Thomas on his lap asleep. Was this what is was like having a family? Giving up the little things you really liked? He sighed at his thoughts, wishing he could be as excited about this whole family thing like John seemed to be.

John smiled a bit at Sherlock before laying down and curling tightly into himself, facing his husband. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep. He was exhausted and felt like he could have slept for days. But tonight it was a restless sleep. He was tensing, his face scrunching together, and after several moments of mumbling, he shot up. "No!" His voice echoed across camp as his right hand moved instantly to his left shoulder and he searched desperately for blood, his chest moving rapidly.

Sherlock frowned as John woke up from a nightmare. He wondered if his husband would be plagued with those forever, and he wished there was something he could to take them away. But…John wouldn't let him try hypnosis. He reached out a hand slowly to give his husband a few reassuring strokes on the back.

Thomas muttered, gripped the necklace around Sherlock's neck tightly and buried his head into the taller man's chest before finally settling back into a restful slumber.

John pulled away from his husband's touch instantly, standing up on wobbly legs. "Fine. 'M fine," he muttered as he walked away with a slight limp, heading toward the inlet. Right now he didn't want to look weak, didn't want to be comforted because he was the leader of the camp and he couldn't be weak. He was starting to view this island as a war zone more every day and that meant staying strong and focusing on survival. Sherlock couldn't comfort him anymore. He collapsed next the shore of the small inlet with a sigh, his hand resting over the scar on his shoulder shakily.

Sherlock frowned as he watched John walk away. He finally decided to put Thomas down. The boy thankfully stayed asleep and he walked toward where John had disappeared to. It didn't take long for him to find his husband. He sat down behind John, wrapping his arms around his husband and placing the side of his face against his partner's back. He knew John had woken up from a nightmare but his husband had never shirked away from him like that before. Hopefully, John wouldn't be upset by this contact.

Calm. Don't pull away because it would only start a fight. John did tense though, not being able to help it. The mindset of a soldier had almost completely taken over. "Sorry," he muttered softly as his hand slowly dropped from his scar. "Just... sorry," he repeated as he kept his gaze locked forward. How could he tell his husband, the person he trust most and who was the most comforting person in his life, that right now he didn't want to be touched. He wanted...Hell, he didn't know. To get off the island, to make it off alive.

Even though John hadn't pulled away, Sherlock had felt his husband's body tense. He had been craving contact with John since after lunch and it had basically been rejected. He let his hands fall to the sand, but his cheek remained pressed against his husband's back. "Just wanted to be close to you," he whispered dejectedly. Had he done something to make John not want him anymore? He was feeling needier than usual, because his husband had been spending a lot of time with the boy and not him.

For a few moments John could suck it up and give Sherlock what he wanted. That's what husbands did, right? Did things even if they didn't want to and their partner wanted it? He took a deep breath and slowly grabbed his husband's arms, wrapping them back around his own torso. "Need you," he said softly, his voice weak with fear. Damn it. It was a half lie but somewhere he just _knew_ that they needed each other right now. "Just...sit here with me?" If he stayed alone any longer he would end up going mad.

Sherlock hesitated, because it still felt like John didn't want him despite the words said. But God, he needed his husband right now. Was he just being too needy and selfish? Usually John was open, ready for comfort and to return it. Now…it was like his husband didn't want him around at all. He remained silent, clinging desperately to John. He was afraid to let go a second time, an irrational fear that if he did his husband would be gone forever. He should be talking to John about this but his husband barely wanted him around anymore so maybe keeping it all in for now was best.

God, John could feel the fear from his husband and it made his gut twist. Had he done that? Shit. He forced himself to relax against Sherlock and cleared his throat. "I can't help it," he finally said, his voice cracking a bit. "Sherlock, the longer we are here the more I turn into a soldier. It's...all I know, the only form of survival I know." He lifted a hand and rested it on top of Sherlock's, lacing their fingers together slightly. "Please don't hate me. Please..." His voice was so desperate and weak and full of fear because he _knew_ what would happen. He was going to turn into something that didn't need a husband or comfort and he was going to end up hurting Sherlock.

God, John could feel the fear from his husband and it made his gut twist. Had he done that? Shit. He forced himself to relax against Sherlock and cleared his throat. "I can't help it," he finally said, his voice cracking a bit. "Sherlock, the longer we're here the more I turn into a soldier. It's... all I know, the only form of survival I know," he lifted a hand and rested it on top of Sherlock's, lacing their fingers together slightly. "Please don't hate me. Please," and his voice was so desperate and weak and full of fear because he _knew_ what would happen. He was going to turn into something that didn't need a husband or comfort and he was going to end up hurting Sherlock.

"I don't hate you. Need you, want you…but you spend so much time with Thomas…I just…God, I am such a stupid needy child…" Sherlock trailed off and he tightened his hold on his husband. "Please don't leave me." John wasn't the only one filled with desperation and fear, even if for very different reasons. Why couldn't he be confident like always? He hated being like this…and John was falling apart again. If they survived, would being stuck on this island ruin them? Because with every passing moment things seemed to only get progressively worse.

"Not going to leave you," John said softly. That was a promise he would keep. No matter how bad he got, how bad the situation got, he would _never_ leave his husband. He couldn't. Sherlock was his anchor, the only thing that kept him grounded and he could never leave the man he married. "Thomas...he is young. We are both new to this parenting thing and I was just trying to help him because," he paused, cleared his throat. "I know what it's like to lose a parent young, yeah? And he's...God, Sherlock, he's still in shock. I don't think he realizes that once he is off this island that he doesn't have a Mum, not got the one person who he's had his whole life." Too much emotion, but sod it. He was breaking and there was no stopping it. "You can't ever hate me after this, Sherlock. Just... you promise me right now that you won't leave me either because...because things are going to change here." The hand on his husband's tightened and he swallowed hard.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note:

Some sexy Johnlock time and some Mycroft towards the end!

* * *

Try to be understanding. Thomas was just a boy, with no one now. Except for them."Never leave. _Never. _Couldn't. Wouldn't." God. When had he become incapable of forming full sentences? Sherlock knew this place was changing them and damn it that was pissing him off. No. He wouldn't let it. He was too stubborn and prideful for that. Screw that outcome. "Things will only change if we let them Love. We have to be strong, just like always. We will make it."

Strong? How could John stay strong without turning into his old self, turning into a soldier who wasn't afraid of anything? He nodded a bit. Sherlock was right. His husband was always right. "We'll make it," he agreed with a small nod. They always did and this time couldn't be any different. It shouldn't be. "I am going to change, Sherlock." He turned his head slightly so he could see his partner out of the corner of his eye. "I... I can't help it. We are in survival mode right now and the only way I know how to take care of that is to turn into a soldier. You're going to hate me," he said softly, his voice cracking. "God, you're going to hate me."

"Then don't change," Sherlock replied simply. "And even if you do, I won't hate you." He lifted his head, leaned forward and gave John a small kiss on the cheek facing him. "You are doing just great right now. There is no reason to change my Love. You think you have to change, because you want to save everyone. It's the solider in you. But you forget one thing, you aren't doing this alone. You have me to help you. You don't have to do this alone. A good leader leads his men bravely, a great leader knows when to ask for help. Dad taught me that." He leaned up and gave his husband another kiss. "I love you."

How did a strong man ask for help? John nodded a bit and let his head fall forward. "I love you, too," he replied softly. Save everybody. That was his job but he figured he could ask his husband for help. The man was a genius, after all, and had done a decent job of helping camp since he had started getting better. "I want to save everybody," he added with a cough. "I mean, I can't leave anybody behind. You..." His head turned again, a bit of a smirk on his lips. "You are my first worry. The moment we get rescued, you're there first. I am not letting you die." He shifted and ran his hand up his husband's forearm lightly. "I'm not letting you die."

"I'm not going to do die, to stubborn for that." Sherlock managed a small smirk. "We just have to work together and everything will turn out fine. You will see my dear doctor. You worry too much. You are trying to bear the weight of a difficult position, and you can't do that to yourself. All you will end up doing is hurting yourself in the end, and that won't help anyone." Who would have thought that he, _Sherlock Holmes_, would be giving advice to someone on accepting help?

John finally relaxed against his husband, his head hanging low as he took several deep breaths. "If it means keeping you safe then I'll take that position," he whispered as he sighed, enjoying the feel of Sherlock's bare chest against the skin of his back. "I will do anything to keep you safe and protect you. That's what husband's do." He turned his head and gave Sherlock a quick, sloppy kiss before looking out at the small inlet. "If anybody is making it off this island it's you. God, Amy loves you so much and you...you've still got a family. Mum and Mycroft and...I'm not much use back there if you aren't with me."

"John Watson, don't you talk like that. Don't you dare. Don't think for a minute, I am leaving if you aren't going with me. We are both _going_ to be fine. If it is the job of a husband to make sure they are safe and protected, then I bear that responsibility for you as well. It doesn't just work one way. Like I said, together we can do this. Neither one of this can do it alone." Sherlock began placing soothing kisses along John's back and neck.

Sherlock knew what he was doing, John could give him that much. The soothing kisses were forcing him to relax, making it hard to talk. Not that he minded because it was what he needed. To shut up and accept that they were both too stubborn. "Both of us aren't dying," he whispered, his words slightly slurred. It was unspoken but he wasn't giving up. If one had to live it was going to be Sherlock. Period. John wouldn't have it any other way.

Sherlock smiled and continued the light kisses along John's skin. "That's right. We will both be fine." He wondered how many times he would have to calm his husband down. It would get harder as each time went by. The island was getting to his partner. It was a term usually associated with sailing, but he was certain John was getting cabin fever. If they stayed here too long, there would come a point in time where he would no longer be able to comfort his husband. God, he hoped it didn't come to that. Where the hell was Mycroft already?

John leaned heavily against Sherlock, his head falling back to rest on his husband's shoulder. Fine. They would both be fine. Before they knew it they would be back in London, back with Amy in their flat with a new member to their family. "D-Don't leave me," he repeated as he turned his head, pressing his nose against Sherlock's ear. "I would be lost without you. Don't leave. Please, don't." He curled his fingers, gently digging his nails into his husband's forearm.

"I won't. I'll never leave you. Ever." Sherlock hugged John tighter to him once more. He came to rest his head on his husband's head, eyes closing. Everything would be fine. It had to be. He had to believe Mycroft would never give up looking for them. He didn't want to die on some stupid island in the middle of the Mediterranean. He was supposed to grow old with John and do all kinds of other things.

Good. John knew that he had Sherlock for the rest of his life. Now all that mattered was how much longer they actually got to stay together. "The first time I kissed you, when I was drugged in the hospital?" He laughed softly and took a shaky breath. "I had wanted to do that since the drugs bust Lestrade did on the flat when I first met you. I looked at your lips...and you kind of shook your head and..." He grinned slowly. "I love kissing you."

Sherlock smiled. "I was surprised but it was a good one. I love kissing you too my dear doctor." To help prove his point, he turned John toward him slowly and gently. He then put their lips together in a meaningful kiss, trying to make it last as long as possible. He began breathing through his nose, arms wrapping around his husband once more in a hug.

John let his eyes shut and returned the kiss slowly, his arms moving to slowly wrap around Sherlock's neck. He didn't want any of this to stop, didn't want Sherlock to pull away because then he might not come back, then John would be alone. He whimpered into his husband's mouth, sucking gently at the man's tongue as a hand move to curl long strands of hair around his fingers.

Sherlock continued the kiss as long as he could, until he finally had to break it so he could breath normally again. "God I love you." He pressed their foreheads together, pulling John closer to him still. Damn, the lubricant was back at the shelter. He could really use a shag right about now and his husband usually did too in situations like these. He ignored the growing erection in his pants and tried to concentrate on John being close to him as being enough at the moment.

John lowered his head for a moment and couldn't help but smirk. Leave it to Sherlock to get a hard on after a simple snog. "We could..." He shifted and moved to his back, spreading his legs and tugging at his husband to settle between them. "Like the night of the wedding," he muttered. "Or the other night." His own erection was becoming more than obvious through his shorts and he figured it would help. And, Hell, if Sherlock wanted to be rough then he could take it.

"Oh God yes," Sherlock followed John's movements without any trace of hesitation. "God I want you," he whispered into his husband's ear. He began to lick and nibble on it. "Love you." One hand rested by John's head in the sand for support, the other tugging at his husband's hair with a growl. He pressed into the man below him eagerly, a small moan coming from him as he continued to assault John's ear with his tongue.

John lifted his legs up, wrapping them around his husband's waist as he lifted up into him. "Love you, too," he whispered, ending with a moan at the tug of his hair. After several moments of trying to catch his breath and lifted his arms, his hands moving to hold on to Sherlock's shoulder blades as he lifted his hips against his husband again. God, the friction against his boxers was fantastic.

Sherlock moaned again, as he squirmed against John in earnest. Eventually he moved his lips back to his husband's, where his tongue moved to explore the other man's mouth instantly. He continued the small tugs on John's hair. The constant rough rubbing was feeling rather marvelous and he didn't want it to stop. With any luck, he would be able to last awhile since they had shagged recently and it wasn't anything too fast and forceful.

John grunted into the kiss, breathing heavily as he tried to focus on the feeling of Sherlock grinding against him because it was fantastic. Sure, they weren't naked but it was gentle and Sherlock knew what he was doing. "God," he whispered behind the kiss, tensing his legs and tugging Sherlock's hips down into him with a small shout. Distraction. Good. Better than hating life and sulking. So much better. "Wish you were inside me, making me scream, God." He slammed his head back into the sand.

"Tomorrow Love, we'll make time tomorrow. Besides, we wouldn't want to wake the camp with our noise." Sherlock smirked a bit, his lips finding John's other ear and began to shower it with attention like he had the other one. He pulled at his husband's hair a little harder, growling in excitement yet again. He pressed and grinded into John anxiously, trying to cause as much friction between them as possible now.

John tensed his neck as his hair was pulled, biting his bottom lip with a small grunt. "Yes," he whispered, curling his fingers and digging his nails into Sherlock's back. He crossed his ankles and rested them against his husband's lower back, his hips moving in shallow, fast thrusts against the warm body above him. Quiet. He couldn't wake up the camp, that would mean responsibility. Back to reality. He couldn't handle that right now.

Yes. Scratching. Almost as amazing as having his hair pulled. Sherlock growled into John's ear again, his teeth nibbling anywhere it could find. He whimpered from the thrusts, a part of him desiring so much more at the moment. But the friction would have to do, for now at least. He rubbed his bulge against his pants into John's fervently. God, it felt wonderful.

John moaned and tried to focus on anything but the thoughts in his head, the negative twist in his gut, and...damn it. He took a deep breath and rolled them, pinning Sherlock harshly to the ground as he pried his legs open, settling in between them before thrusting roughly against his husband. Pissed. He was _pissed_. Sherlock was here and below him, and he growled and bit down roughly on his husband's shoulder.

Good God, John's sudden aggression was such a turn on for Sherlock. "Y-yes," he managed to get out. He moaned the moment his husband's teeth sunk into his skin. "More, please. Want more," he begged. John in control and exerting authority never ceased to make him even more aroused. Right now his husband could do whatever and he would accept it willing and anxiously.

More? John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock, kept his teeth buried in his husband's shoulder, and started a hard, fast pace with his hips. He was wincing with each thrust, grunting and moving them slightly in the sand. He refused to actually shag his husband, not without lube. This would be good enough. Hard and rough and, God, they gad moved at least three inches in the sand because he was thrusting against Sherlock that hard. "More," he muttered as an afterthought into his husband's shoulder as he sucked and licked at his teeth marks

"...'sgood...just like that..." Sherlock was in bliss right now. His eyes closed in contentment from all the wonderful and different sensations all over his body. They were going to fuck just like this tomorrow, only John would be inside of him. They had to. God, he wanted it badly now. Just thinking about it made his body shiver in excitement.

Hearing Sherlock's voice only gave John more confidence, his hips snapping forward so hard he shouted, pressing his face into his husband's neck before he tensed and came roughly, his hips still moving without his consent despite the obvious growing wet mark on the front of his shorts. He opened his mouth and nipped harshly at Sherlock's pressure point as he moved a hand to pull his husband's hair.

"Yes. Oh God yes," Sherlock growled out as soon as his hair was being pulled. This was all so magnificent. He came shortly after John, with a moan. "John..." He trailed off, panting heavily. He tried again, "Want to do that again tomorrow, but with you inside me. Please?" He didn't care he was begging. Tonight had been the most amazing sexual encounter since making love on the beach.

Did Sherlock expect him to talk after that? He had just fucked his husband into the sand and could possibly fall asleep wrapped in Sherlock's wonderfully long limbs, but the man beneath him was practically begging. There was no way that could be turned down. He grunted in response, pressing his face against Sherlock's neck with a soft sigh.

Thomas had woken up and come to see what all the noises were and had hidden to watch. It was weird and he didn't understand what happened. Whatever it was, it looked like it had used up a lot of energy. He came out of his hiding spot, still staring at them both curiously.

Sherlock heard someone coming and when he saw Thomas he frowned a bit. How much had the boy seen? No questions were being asked so that was a good sign, he supposed. He had wanted time to snuggle with John but that probably wasn't going to happen now.

John shifted slightly to glance over his shoulder, blushing furiously when he saw Thomas. Shit. He slowly moved off if his husband, managing a weak chuckle when he got tangled in Sherlock's long legs. "Thomas, are you alright?" His voice was shaky and he was stumbling over his words in the afterglow. "How long have you been here, mate?" He ran a hand through his hair nervously.

Thomas looked down at the ground. "Woke up. No one there. Heard scary noises. Got worried. Came to find you..." He trailed off with a shrug. Was he in trouble?

Sherlock couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his lips. They were supposed to be this kid's fathers now, right? Might as well get used to it. "Do you...hmm...have any questions about what you saw?"

The boy looked up. Did this mean he wasn't in trouble? He slowly shook his head

What? Sherlock wanted to have the sex talk with Thomas _now_? John blushed harder and studied the boy for a long moment. "Maybe when you're a bit older, yeah?" He cleared his throat, glancing at his husband. No questions? It surprised him given the fact that Thomas was such a curious kid. They had literally been going at it like rabbits. "It's okay if you have questions Thomas." Might as well be a good father.

Thomas gnawed on his lip. He did have questions but he wasn't really sure where to start. "Don't it hurt when your hair is pulled? What are those noises? Why were you growling like a doggy? Why you bite Daddy?" He only stopped asking question because he had run out of breath.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. Good Lord, how were they supposed to answer all that? He didn't want to be one of those parents who lied to their children but now he was seriously considering and regretted asking in the first place.

Right. 'It feels good' probably wasn't the best answer. John licked his lips and glanced at his husband for a long moment. "Sometimes when Sherlock and I..." Nope. No. He couldn't do this. "Maybe later, Thomas. Why don't we go back to sleep." He stood slowly, wincing at the feeling inside of his boxers. "I love you." He turned to his husband with a warm smile, offering his hand to help Sherlock up.

Thomas frowned. "But...okay..." He kicked at the ground, pouting.

"Hey. You heard John. No pouting now. It is a little difficult to explain but I promise when you are older we will tell you." Sherlock took the offered hand and stood up. Hah. Him telling someone not to pout. Might as well just call the kettle black too.

And there it was. Sherlock was acting like a true and proper father. John stood on his toes and gave his husband a quick kiss. "Tomorrow night," he whispered before pulling away, keeping Sherlock's hand in his own and giving it a small squeeze. "When you are older, Thomas, you'll understand. Promise. C'mon, mate. Let's get you back to bed. It's late." He stuck his other hand out, wiggling his fingers as he smiled warmly down at the boy.

Thomas bite his bottom lip and then finally nodded slowly. So unfair. He had been told to ask questions and then none were answered. He sighed and took John's hand reluctantly.

Sherlock smirked and returned the kiss. He could not wait until tomorrow. He walked hand in hand with his husband, occasionally glancing to the despondency of the boy. Thomas would get over it eventually. Hell, the kid will probably have forgotten by tomorrow.

John took a deep breath and squeezed the boy's hand. "Thomas, don't bite your bottom lip," he said with a soft smile. Honestly, he shouldn't be telling Thomas that because he did the same thing but maybe he could get rid of the bad habit in their new son early. "Your Mum, did she ever have a boyfriend or girlfriend, Thomas?" He looked down at the little boy as they finally made it to their shelter.

"Sorry," Thomas muttered and stopped chewing his bottom lip. "No...Mummy said men were a distraction that couldn't be...aff-afforded?" He glanced up at John questioningly, because he wasn't sure if he had said that word right. He also had no idea what his mother had meant. Why did grownups always use such big words?

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at what Thomas said, but kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he went back to when they had first boarded the plane and he recalled everything he could about the woman. When they reached the shelter, he sat down automatically.

"Right." John nodded a bit and sat down, pulling Thomas into his lap. "Let's get some sleep, mate. You need your rest if you want to go hunting with me tomorrow." He smiled and ran his hand smoothly through the boy's hair several times to try and ease him to sleep. He glanced at his husband for a long moment. "You remember his Mum?" He asked softly, leaning to the side to rest against Sherlock.

Thomas was going to argue that he wasn't tired but as soon as he curled against John, his eyes got droopy and he fell asleep instantly.

* * *

It had been nearly a week and Mycroft had managed to tell his Mum the simplest lie of all: they wanted another week. After everything that had happened to them it had been believable. It was too hard to deny now, though. He knew the plane had gone down and didn't even know if the two were still alive, let alone where they might be if they had actually survived. He rocked Amy gently in his arms, a smile on her face as she squeaked and pulled at his suit jacket. "Mum," he walked into the tea room slowly, gathering up all of his courage. Now or never.

"Yes dear, what is it? Sherlock and John will be home soon. I was thinking of baking a cake and some cookies. Then we could all get together and have tea. Wouldn't that be nice? They will be tired, I imagine, but I'm anxious to see my boys again."

Not good. Mycroft nearly lost all of his willpower in that moment. "Mum, Sherlock and John didn't take an extra week on their honeymoon." Amy squeaked and tugged on a button, smiling. Calm. He had to do this. "We had confirmation six days ago that the plane they were on lost an engine and crashed somewhere in the water near the Mediterranean. I have been looking for any sort of information but...I don't even know if they are alive at this point."

What? Nancy had been drinking tea and the cup in her hand fell to the ground with a crash and shattered on the hard wood floor. She didn't seem to notice and she had to sit down in the nearest chair before her knees gave out. "They have to be alive…I can't lose them…not after I just lost Siger…" Her voice was a quiet whisper and it was clear she was talking to herself, her gaze staring at her lap with a faraway look. She finally looked up at Mycroft. "You find them! I don't care how long it takes! You can't ever stop looking! My baby boy has to come home to me! Even…if it's just to bury him…" Anger and grief swept through her and the tears began to fall.

The words sent a chill through him and he turned to find Lestrade ready to help, taking Amy from his arms as he collapsed in front of his mother. "This is Sherlock and John we are talking about," he said with a smile, as tears ran down his face. "We aren't just going to lose them and I swear on my life that you will see Sherlock again." He pulled Nancy forward so she could cry on his shoulder, slamming his eyes shut. "We've got a few leads we're following but...I don't know how long it could take. It took us a week to figure out a two-thousand kilometer area where they could be. Still massive," he whispered.

Nancy returned the hug. After awhile of crying she straightened her posture in a dignified manner. "I am going to go help look for them. I can't just sit here while my son is out there! I'll fly down to the Balearic Islands and start there. I will sail everywhere if I have to!" She moved to get up out of the chair.

"Mum." Mycroft stood instantly, gently grabbing her wrist. "You can't leave. We have got a lot of space covered and when we do find them they will be picked up by a helicopter. We'll be sending four. There were sixteen people on the flight and we don't know..." He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and smiled a bit. "We'll find them. I promise. We've got to watch Amy."

Nancy hesitated but then collapsed back into the chair. Of course her eldest son was right. "I'm sorry, I just…I feel helpless just sitting here." She looked up at Mycroft and took a deep, calming breath. "Just not knowing. The sitting and the waiting. It's like their kidnapping all over again. I think I am going to go lay for a bit dear." She wasn't tired but she wanted some time alone.

"I know but they'll be fine. John's a soldier, Sherlock is a genius. There is no way they just gave up." Mycroft stood slowly and looked over at Lestrade, smiling tightly before turning away from his mother. They had to find Sherlock and John. It wasn't even an option anymore. He didn't have a choice.

Nancy nodded. Mycroft was right. She couldn't give up hope, not yet anyway. They were alive out there, somewhere. They had to be… She sighed as she stood up and moved off to go to her bedroom.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note:

So, here comes the drama and angst. Honestly? Things get worse before they get better.

* * *

"Hm? Yes. Business woman. Professional, except she took Thomas with her on business trips. Left handed. They had a dog, some sort of short haired white canine. A white-haired fox terrier if I had to guess. The woman's dog, not the boys. Probably because his mother was a control freak and wouldn't let her son anywhere near it...or do anything for that matter. Kept him on a short leash, so to speak. Hmmm…" Sherlock drifted back off to his thoughts, eyebrows crinkling together. "Has Thomas told you about his Mum by chance? Anything at all?" He finally looked to John, his eyes focusing on the present at last.

"Told me that he was special enough to not have a Dad. Didn't let him play sports at all. So he doesn't know who his Dad is, no extended family." John nodded and looked down at the sleeping boy with a frown. God, he hoped they could give Thomas a better life than that. "I think he might be interested in rugby, I could teach him. Once Amy's older they would probably get along very well." He smiled and pulled the boy closer to him. "You think there is a reason he's never met his Dad?"

Sherlock frowned a bit. That wasn't the information he was looking for. It was irrelevant to his theory. "Right, I expected that. I don't think Thomas was really her son. It's why she isolated him. It's impossible to know for sure without a DNA test, but I'm pretty confident in my guess as I am rarely wrong about such things. To be honest, I don't think his 'mother' was a very nice lady at all. She wasn't abusive or anything like that to Thomas, the boy is far to outgoing and inquisitive to suggest anything like that. But…hmmm…I wonder…" He trailed off again into his thoughts.

John's eyebrows came together almost instantly. So...Thomas had already been adopted once? "Oh," he muttered softly, as he looked down at the boy in his arms. "And he just didn't know..." He let his mouth twist to one side as he watched Sherlock. Mind Palace. The man's face was utterly adorable when he was lost in thought. "You're beautiful, even with the bit of a sunburn you've managed to get." He turned his head and place a soft kiss on his husband's upper arm.

"What? Oh…" Sherlock looked down at himself and examined his body in the moonlight. He hadn't really noticed the sunburn until John had said something. "In completely unrelated topics…" He moved to the clothes he had let out to dry. He changed into a fresh, well fresher pair of underwear and pants. He also had pair of John's boxers. He had snitched a pair for himself before they left the beach house but he figured his husband could use them more than he did. He held them out for John with a smirk.

"Little thief," John said with an small laugh, taking the boxers eagerly. He would have to wait to change until the next morning, probably the next time he had a chance to wash up a bit. "Thank you, dear." He leaned over and gave Sherlock a gentle kiss. "I love you. And...thank you for earlier. I'm... sorry. I don't know what happened." He cleared his throat and rested his head on his husband's shoulder, his hand still going through the boy's hair as he glanced out at the shore. "How do you feel about our extending family?"

Sherlock smirked and then shrugged. "Love you too, glad I could be of service and don't worry about it." The smirk returned but faltered at the question. "I don't know. I'm not against adopting the boy, it is just sudden. With little Sandi, I was able to make changes accordingly at my own pace. I just…need to get used to the idea I think." Better to talk about it now, get it over with. Hopefully he hadn't upset John with his admission.

It _was_ sudden, John couldn't argue with that at all. To be honest, he was a bit nervous as well. Would Thomas and Amy share his old room upstairs? It would get to be problematic as they grew up. "I just...I don't know. Ever since Amy I feel a bit more protective of children and...I watched you rescue him. I was coming back from the shore for the second time to see who I could save and there you were. He was so scared and you just held him close." He closed his eyes and shrugged the best he could. "He needs somebody and he loves you, Sherlock. You're Daddy to him."

Good. Maybe they could actually talk without arguing. That would be nice. Sherlock gave a small shrug. "She yelled and begged me to save him. At one time, I don't think I would have bothered…but…" He trailed off with another shrug to his slim shoulders. "…He didn't want to leave her. I had to literally pry him off. I had exhausted a lot of strength to get him off the plane and God then I had to swim. He has been clinging to me ever since. I thought he would hate me, for making him leave his Mum but I think he ended up being too scared and lonely. So he clung to the one person who he felt like he could count on…me…" It was weird to think about for him. That Thomas was so reliant on him now. The boy was growing on him though, he supposed.

"And now you're a Dad," John said with a small laugh. "He's got dark enough hair, really. Brown eyes, though. Couldn't convince anybody that you knocked me up," he whispered, half-serious. Joking. There. They were doing very good right now. "We'll figure it out. Hell, by the time we get home maybe Mycroft and Lestrade will have their little boy." Home. God, he couldn't wait to walk into their flat, see Amy. She probably smiled all the time now, sat up and shook little toys in her hands. "I'm glad we've got a family, Sherlock. I couldn't pick anybody better to be with me and help me raise two children. You're...you're perfect for it."

Sherlock laughed, because well if anyone had told him he would be perfect for parenting a year ago that is exactly the same response he would have given them. Although it probably would have been followed by a snide and condescending comeback. "I guess. I'm still…getting used to the idea of being a father. It didn't scare me at first, but when little Sandi was born…I realized I was terrified…" He trailed and cleared his throat. He didn't like admitting that. It made him feel weak and stupid.

"I was, too," John replied with a soft chuckle of his own. "God, Sherlock, the moment that nurse put Amy in my arms I was so scared. That little thing...it was dependent on me and I wasn't going to be there. And then she opened her eyes and I...I was looking at myself and I suddenly didn't care. I didn't care that my life was going to revolve around my family because you were there and you were supporting me and," he was rambling, wasn't he? He stopped himself and licked his lips. "You've done a wonderful job."

Had he? Sherlock wasn't so sure about that. He didn't feel like enough time had gone by to make any real judgment about it. He was still trying to figure out _how_ to be a father. The books he had read hadn't prepared him for most of things he had already dealt with. It had all been generic information. Some of it had been useful he supposed. At least little Sandi wasn't old enough to know what was going on. They didn't have to worry about her feeling alone and scared. For the first time leaving London he realized he did miss Amy. "I miss our daughter," he whispered quietly.

That was it for John. Hearing Sherlock say that, thinking it, made a few silent tears slip down his cheeks. "Me too. I miss our daughter," he whispered before letting a soft sob wrack his body. God, he missed Amy. They were missing so much. Waking up to her smile every morning, feeding her and playing with her. Right now, in the protection that only night could offer, he needed his husband's comfort and he was more than willing to return it. "I miss Amy," he muttered brokenly into his husband's arm, another sob escaping his chest.

That was the opposite reaction Sherlock was expecting. Before on their honeymoon, John had asked if he missed little Sandi or thought about her and at the time he hadn't. He had thought his words would please his husband but instead John was crying now. He frowned, wrapping an arm around his husband in a sideways hug. He leaned his head against John's. "We will see her again. And Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft, my Mum, Lestrade, everybody. I had planned on starting working cases when we got back home, but I'll take a week and spend it with you and our family."

John let his eyes close and relaxed eagerly against Sherlock, his breathing slowing as he calmed himself down. "Your choice, don't want to force you to do anything," he whispered softly. Sherlock Holmes, a family man. The thought made him smile tiredly. "Pretty sure you'll have a pile of interesting cases waiting for you. Lestrade's probably been stockpiling them for you," he laughed softly, sniffing a bit. "Oh, God, and your Mum isn't getting her little book back. The sex one? She's going to kill us," he joked softly.

"You aren't forcing me to do anything. It was my idea to begin with." Sherlock smirked and then kissed the top of John's head. "Lestrade has done without me working a case for almost a year now, he can wait one more week. Hell, knowing my brother he won't let _Gregory_ give me one, anyway. Just to make sure I'm okay…blah, blah, blah, brotherly love, blah, blah, blah." The smirk returned. "I think she may let us off the hook, but I could be wrong." He closed his eyes, tilting his head so he could nuzzle his cheek into his husband's hair. "I love you."

Even in the haze of sleep that was slowly taking over John's body he managed a large smile. "I love you, too. So much," he whispered. "'M gonna sleep," he added with a weak yawn. No nightmares. With Sherlock beside him and Thomas in his arms he felt protected and...loved. "Perfect husband," he mumbled weakly before his body finally gave in and he went limp against his husband, the hand in the boy's hair sliding and falling against Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock smiled. Good, John needed to sleep. He supposed he could keep watch for the remainder of the evening, even if he didn't think they would be rescued in the middle of the night. He wasn't tired and probably wouldn't sleep again for another day, possibly two. It depended on how much work and shagging he and his husband did. He smirked at the thought. Tomorrow. He couldn't wait. He had missed the rough sex and he was rather eager for it to happen again.

John woke up slowly, his eyes focusing first on the water. No sun yet but the sky was getting a bit lighter. He groaned and wiggled his toes. Legs asleep. Right, he had a five year old on top of his legs. He smiled a bit and groaned, turning his head to bury it into his husband's warm body. "Morning," he whispered with a soft kiss to the skin beneath his teeth, his tongue darting out to trace the small part of a rib he could see beneath Sherlock's skin. "Discover anything interesting while I napped?"

When Sherlock felt John stir, he glanced down at his husband. "Morning Love." Shit, the tongue on his skin shouldn't be such a damn turn on. Except, he had pretty much spent the whole night thinking about their next shagging. He was certain anything that John did right now would excite him. If they hadn't gotten each other off so many times already, he figured he would have an erection right about now. Probably better that he didn't anyway. "I discovered how much I love getting shagged by you." He smirked down at his husband.

"Mmmm," John shifted slightly and tilted his head, placing another soft kiss against his husband's side. "Shagging is good. Very good." He pulled his mouth back with a slight 'pop' and inspected the new red mark on Sherlock's skin. "You want it that rough tonight?" There was a bit of hesitation in his voice and he really couldn't help it. If they went at it as rough as they did the night before then Sherlock probably wouldn't be able to walk away.

Sherlock smirked and nodded. "Oh God yes. I pretty much just sat here thinking about it all night. If you wear me out enough maybe I'll sleep." He smirked again and placed a soft kiss into John's hair. This was a good start to the day. Would they be able to go without fighting or worrying about making it off this damned island? He sure as hell hoped so.

"Then I would have to carry you back to camp," John said with a small laugh. His eyes were drawn away from his husband's lap to the horizon where the sun was slowly starting to appear. Even with Thomas curled against him this was quite the romantic moment. He turned his head and studied Sherlock intently. "I love you," he whispered before giving Sherlock a gentle kiss.

"Miss rough sex." Sherlock shrugged after the admission. He missed more than that really. John hadn't been in control, dominant and aggressive like that in awhile. And God, he wanted it all. Damn the consequences. He smiled at John. "Love you too."

It was not a surprising thing to hear. John nodded a bit. "Me too," he paused for a moment and smiled a bit. "I haven't...I don't know, I didn't really mean for earlier to happen." He cleared his throat. It had been more out of anger, really, and Sherlock just so happened to enjoy it. "I was just upset and...and you were there." Was this going to start a fight? God, he hoped not.

"This probably sounds weird but I don't care. God, you were in control and aggressive. I loved it. We can have shag angry whenever you want." Sherlock gave John a smirk and a reassuring kiss on the head. Was it normal to like such aggression? At least he was willing to take what he gave. That was good right?

Well, that went better than John ever though. He grinned a bit and turned his gaze back to the slowly rising sun. "Hope I can get that angry again tonight," he muttered with a bit of a laugh. In reality he knew it would be a problem because right now he could feel it. It wasn't going to take very much at all. After hunting and making lunch there wasn't anything for him to do and he would end up pacing the island, looking for something or trying to calm himself down. "Don't want to hurt you."

"It will hurt a bit but so very worth it." Sherlock wrapped an arm around John. "We'll be okay Love. Everything will turn out fine, just you wait and see." He hugged his husband close to him and gave a small kiss on the cheek.

Thomas groaned as he stirred. "You're loud," he muttered, as he tried to turn away from the talking.

"And you are cranky, mate. Maybe you should've gotten more sleep last night." John smiled a bit and rubbed a hand gently up and down the boy's arm. "Want to go sleep in your shelter for a bit? Sherlock and I are going to keep talking." For a long moment he studied Thomas before looking back at his husband. Just watching him, studying him, calmed John down a bit. But he was getting nervous. There was something in his gut that just told him the next time he started feeling different, Sherlock wouldn't be able to pull him back.

Thomas mumbled, grabbing Sherlock's coat and clinging to it like a child with a blanket. He walked to his shelter sleepily, curled up with the coat and went back to sleep.

Sherlock watched Thomas with a slight smirk before returning his attention back to John. "You're tense Love. Worried aren't you?"

John cleared his throat and instantly looked back to shore. How did he respond to that? Sherlock was right, of course. The man was always right. But he needed to be strong and not worry the camp. Sherlock was different, though. His husband. "A little, yeah," he muttered softly. It was going to happen, there was no avoiding it and he knew it. The longer they were here the more he turned into a solider. Focused. No need for comfort or love or...Sherlock. Did his husband know that? "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to stay like this. I can't be myself when we're all trying to survive."

"If I had the same attitude that you have now when we first started dating, I would have never been able to change for you. I never would have married you." God, that was hard to think about. Sherlock forced himself to keep going. "I think you will be just fine, if you try hard. And it will be...but I'm right here to help you. That's what husband's are for." He smirked a bit, since John said that to him often.

Sherlock seemed to have a lot more confidence than John did about the entire situation. Then again, his husband had never really seen him as anything other than how he was in London. Hell, he'd even changed a bit when Sherlock had come out to Afghanistan. "I need to go on a walk or something," he muttered as he stood up. "If Kevin wakes up just tell him...I'll hunt alone." He looked down at Sherlock for a moment, squared his shoulders and perfected his posture, and started walking toward the first trap on the south side of the island.

Sherlock got up and followed John, putting a hand on his husband's shoulder. He had told Mycroft that one would always fight if it got bad enough and damn it John wasn't listening at all. "Like hell you get to walk away. You think this has been a walk in the park for the rest of us? You think you are the only one struggling. Newsflash John, you aren't. It isn't all about you. Now quit being selfish. You say you are worried about being a soldier again. I don't see that at all. You know what I see? Not Captain John Hamish Watson, that's for damn sure. A coward. Instead of fighting you are walking away like some child throwing a tantrum. I won't stand by and watch you do this to yourself. I...can't ..." He had been a lot harsher than intended. It wouldn't surprise him if his husband took a swing or tackled him to the ground. It was what he was hoping for and he would offer no resistance.

Who the Hell did Sherlock think he was? Talking back like that. John tensed and rushed forward, jamming his shoulder into his husband's chest and sending them both to the ground with a yell, one hand lifting up and smashing across Sherlock's cheek. "Fuck you!" He sat back, panting with narrowed eyes. He _wasn't_ a coward. He never would be and the fact that his husband, of all people, had called him that...hurt. It hurt and suddenly he realized where he was and what had just happened. Shit. Don't let it show. He wiggled his right hand, curling and uncurling his fingers several times before looking Sherlock in the eyes. "I'm not a coward," he declared smoothly, not moving at all and deciding to keep his husband pinned in the sand. "I'm _not_."

Sherlock didn't fight back. He had been prepared for an onslaught of blows but they never came. This _did_ surprised him. His husband had a hell of a left hook though. His cheek was bleeding now. He looked up at John, ignoring the stinging sensation. "I know you aren't," he replied quietly. He had provoked his husband on purpose.

John took several deep breaths and then realization dawned on his face. "Oh," he whispered softly, licking his lips and suddenly looking like a young child caught doing something bad. He'd just punched his husband...tackled him to the ground and... "You're bleeding," he muttered, running his hand across his shorts before lifting his thumb up and wiping some of it away. It didn't matter that his husband had done that on purpose, it didn't change the fact that he'd beat his husband up. God, the man's left cheeks was already bruising. "Sorry."

Sherlock smirked and shrugged the best he could while laying on the ground. He was starting to get a headache too. Probably from when he hit the ground. It wouldn't surprise him if he had a knot there later. And God, his chest hurt where John had rammed him. Bruised ribs, probably. His husband had gotten him better than he first realized. "You aren't in a war John. You are stranded on island with mostly strangers. We all have to work at survival. We can't just rely on one person." He was going to say more but he wheezed and winced in pain from his chest.

Well, that certainly wasn't making John feel any better. He had opened his mouth to argue, to say that survival was a war and that they needed to win but that wheeze...the wince. He had hurt his husband, injured him. The man he vowed to protect. His eyes darted across Sherlock's body, his eyebrows coming together in worry. "We'll need to get you back to the shelter to relax. Water, if we can, and then just make sure you aren't doing strenuous activities. We can get some water on the cut, make sure it's clean." He nodded but didn't move, looking down at his husband. "Sherlock, I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Christ his chest felt like it was on fire. Oh no. John had gotten him in the solar plexus and when he landed it was possible a rib could have cracked with the full weight of his husband on him. Sherlock couldn't breathe. Punctured lung from a cracked rib maybe. Stop thinking. Act. He feebly shoved at John as he fought for breath. Knife. Pocket. He blindly reached for it, flipping it open. It dropped. He had wanted to relieve the pressure and use a reed as a breathing apparatus. Too weak. Not enough air or time. John was a doctor he'd figure out, right? He fell still and unconscious from the lack of air.

No. Shit, no. John jumped to his feet and rushed toward the shore, searching desperately for something that would have a hole in the center of it. His husband couldn't die. He couldn't kill Sherlock. He found a short reed, running it across his shorts to clean it before rushing back to his husband. "Don't die. You can't die, Sherlock!" He picked up the knife and studied his partner's chest. He'd charged with his right shoulder and had connected with the left side of Sherlock's chest. That was his best bet. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and made a small cut between his husband's bottom two ribs. Blood. God, so much blood. And it was Sherlock's. He caused that. He took the reed and slid it into the incision before looking at Sherlock. "There. Breathe," he whispered. "Breathe!" He added in a shout.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note:

I totally cried while we wrote this chapter. Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews left by you wonderful people!

* * *

Sherlock bolted up as air flowed properly and he gasped for breath. "Knew you'd figure it out," he mustered out as he eased back down to the ground. The reed was just a temporary fix. With a few adjustments it would be okay but he really wasn't feeling up to doing anything at the moment. "Guess shagging at all is out of the question." He gave a small smirk but it disappeared as he winced. His chest still hurt and talking so much probably wasn't helping.

"Don't talk," John instructed softly, studying his husband intensely. Breathing. Alive. "I am so sorry, oh my God." He stayed balanced on his knees, hands covered in blood, as he shook his head. "Sherlock, I almost killed you." He swallowed hard and let himself shift to sit back on his heels. How could he do that to his husband? The man he vowed to protect for the rest of his life and...and he did that. "C'mon, I will carry you back to camp and make you comfortable." He shifted and stood, bending to gently pick his husband up. Blood smeared across his partner's body as he moved slowly toward their shelter. His face was pale, eyes calm. He couldn't show fear anymore. After several moments of standing still in front of their shelter he set Sherlock down, moving his own jacket over the wound to cover it. "N-Need anything?"

Ordinarily Sherlock would have insisted he was fine and walk on his own but that really wasn't an option right now. Besides John wouldn't have taken 'no' for an answer. "...'sfine...I'm fine..." He laid in the shelter, with his eyes closed a long moment. When he heard his husband speak he opened them and focused on John's face. "No...wait...yes...my knife, a vine, and small leaves like from a bush..." He was feeling miserable but his husband felt bad enough as was. He managed a small smile to try and reassure John.

"Yeah, okay." John took a shaky step back and turned slowly. It didn't take him long to get to the knife, picking it up. More blood. He winced and moved toward the shore, washing it off before moving to the center of the island. Vine. Small leaves. It took him a while but he finally returned to camp, slowly handing the items over. The blood across his chest had dried and his eyes were steel. No emotion. "What are they for?" His voice was low, weak. He finally let himself sit beside his husband even though he thought he didn't deserve it.

Sherlock had fallen asleep after John left but stirred when he heard his husband approaching. "Need to fix this," he muttered. It was hard to focus for him. His head was still pounding and fuck, his chest wouldn't stop hurting. He had forgotten to ask for another reed. "Need another," he muttered as he vaguely gestured to the object in his chest, before he passed out again. He was still breathing but it was shallow and slow.

That was all it took for John to jump to his feet, tripping over several clumps of sand before jogging to the inlet. He gathered five bits of reed, figuring it would be better, before turning to look back at camp. Kevin had done the hunting and Kelly was already boiling water in the only pan they had managed to find from the wreck. Small, obviously from the stewardess kitchen. Wonderful. He jogged back up to Sherlock and gently replaced the reed, tossing the bloody on a few feet from their shelter before moving toward Kelly. "Can I get some of that?" She nodded with a solemn smile and handed the pan to John. He turned back to his husband and washed some water over a second area over his husband's side. "Sorry, love." He took the knife and made a second incision, knowing it would help further relieve the pressure. The blood was collected in his hands the best he could manage so their shelter would remain as sanitary as possible.

The new and unexpected pain brought Sherlock awake with a shout. His breathing increased exponentially and with effort he managed to get it under control. His chest didn't seem to be hurting as much as before. "Need to make a reed so I can relieve the pressure as needed." There better. Thinking a little more clearly.

"Shh." John looked up and gently shook his head. "Got five more. We should be set. I can use the vine and leaves as stitches and a bandage when you are breathing a bit better and we don't need the incisions anymore." His gaze traveled back down the cut, his hands moving away so he could dump the blood on to the sand. Kelly dropped some longer leaves, a bit wet from the boiled water, and he took the hint instantly. He took several leaves and spread them across the second cut, smiling the best he could when they stuck to his husband's skin.

Sherlock shook his head slightly. "My lung has been punctured, it will keep deflating without the reeds. If I close off the top by tying a leaf to it with a vine and then cut it open when the pressure is too much it will re-inflate. Well, hopefully anyway. It will be a pain but unless Kelly has a traveling sewing kit it's our only option until I can get to a hospital."

"I'm not an idiot," John shot back a bit harsher than he intended. "I can do it. You are going to lay there and bloody relax." He grabbed one of the leaves and ripped a bit of vine off with his teeth. He'd done this to Sherlock, nearly killed him, and now it was his job to fix it. He easily tied the leaf to the top and then sat back, pulling his legs against his chest and smearing blood across his shins. "There." He kept his eyes locked intently on his husband's chest.

Sherlock frowned. "Right. Sorry," he muttered. He wished he had just stayed asleep at this point. Since he couldn't turn his back to John, he turned his head away instead. He closed his eyes but sleep didn't find him. He sighed at his own childishness but didn't look back. Why bother? The changes his husband mentioned were already happening, apparently. Maybe he would get lucky for once and he could die before John broke his heart. He was tired of fighting. His husband was so damn eager to give up, so why shouldn't he? He was already dying anyway. It was just a matter of time really until his lung collapsed completely and for good.

"Calm your breathing or it's going to hurt worse, love," John said softly, his gaze not wavering from his husband's chest. It was clear his husband wasn't doing too well and he wasn't going to let Sherlock die, not because of something he had done. Right now he didn't care of Sherlock wasn't looking at him, all that mattered was that the man in front of him was alive. The air between them was definitely tense. He had changed, focused intently on his husband and not the rest of camp, not himself. "Look at me." It was a soft, desperate command but he need to see Sherlock, needed to know he hadn't killed his husband.

"You should let me die," Sherlock said without turning to look at John. "I'm just a waste of resources, that you can't afford to lose. Then you can concentrate on being a soldier and I won't be able to hold you back. You can focus on saving everyone else." He coughed once he finished speaking, wincing from the pain in his chest.

John moved forward, putting his palm on his husband's cheek, ignoring the blood, and turning Sherlock's head to look at him. "Part of being a soldier means nobody gets left behind. I'm not going to let my better half die, you hear me? Never." His blue eyes were wide, serious, and his lips were pressed together so hard they were white. "I did this. I am going to fix it and you can't change my mind. If you die then I will just kill myself. I'm _not_ losing you." He bent his head and gave Sherlock a gentle kiss before sitting back, eyes riveted to his husband's chest again.

Sherlock gave a harsh laugh but it didn't last long as a fit of painful coughing overtook him. "Kill yourself? Great, you really are a coward. Never mind that would leave Amy without a mother or either father. Good job John." He fell into another coughing fit and turned his head away from his husband once more. "Eventually we will run out of reeds or my lung will just have had enough. As a doctor, you have to know that you can't fix this. Not here..." He trailed off as another fit of coughing racked his body. He wasn't sure where his conviction and resolve had gone to, but he supposed words like that didn't matter to a dead man.

If Sherlock wanted to lay here and die then sod it. John stood up, ripped the wedding ring from his finger, and dropped it on his husband's chest. "Fine. Then you give up and let me raise our family, you selfish asshole. They don't need to be around your fucking idiotic job anyway. You would probably end up getting them killed with all the shit you get yourself into." He took a deep breath, kicked the remaining reeds toward Sherlock, and stood straight. "I'm going to go take care of people who actually have the will to live." He stood, frozen in his spot for a moment, before turning on his heels and walking calmly toward the fire.

The words hurt but it was better that way probably. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly but the tears still trickled through and down his face. So, this was it then. He was going to die and John hated him. It was the worst possible way to go. Didn't his husband understand he was trying to give John a chance to make it off this damned island? He was just a burden. Someone who would need constant care and looking after to make sure he wouldn't suffocate. He would be taking away from resources needed. It was just easier on everyone. He picked up the ring his husband had thrown at him, brought it to his lips and kissed it. The chest pains were getting worse and he began wheezing for breath again. He didn't want to die alone but John had left him so he clung desperately to the ring. No…he couldn't die like this…not with his husband mad at him… He fumbled to get a grip on a new reed with his free hand.

Kelly moved forward instantly, grabbing. New reed. "Calm. Calm down, Sherlock. In through your nose, out through your mouth." She pulled the leaf and vine off the reed still in the man's chest and glanced up at his face. "Calm. Please, calm down." She moved her free hand to grab one of his.

John plopped down by the shore, feet in front of him in the water, and finally broke. His head dropped and his body moved with a strong sob. Too much. Sherlock was going to die and all he did was yell at him, ruin their marriage. What kind of husband was he? He scrubbed a hand through his hair, ignoring the blood as he tried to get his crying under control.

"John..." It was the only word Sherlock could breathe out before coughing. He was supposed to be concentrating on breathing but the only thing that mattered to him was seeing his husband. He continued to cling to the ring, his only source of comfort at the moment.

The commotion had finally woken up Thomas. He walked over to Sherlock sleepily but he quickly became fully awake when he saw all the blood. "Daddy!" He screeched the name in a terrified tone. What had happened? Why wasn't Mister John helping? "Daddy!" He clambered onto Sherlock's legs, looking frantically down at the man who had saved him.

John twisted around to see what all the yelling was about before he stood and ran to the shelter. "Off." He pulled Thomas back roughly into the sand and snatched the new reed from Kelly. "Breathe, damn it." He looked up at Sherlock with a medical calm before pulling the old reed out and putting a new on in. "Calm down," he said softly, running a hand through Sherlock's hair. "You have got to calm down or this isn't going to end very well, yeah?" He pried his wedding ring from his husband's hand and slipped it back on despite the anger in his body. Keep Sherlock calm. That was all he had to do. "Calm. Mycroft is on his way, I am sure of it."

Sherlock grabbed John's wrist with a strength that was surprising considering his weakened state. "…'msorry…don't want to die…don't let me die…" The words were mostly slurred together as fell into a much needed slumber. His body was exhausted from battling for air. His breathing slowed and evened out, the grip slipping from his husband's wrist and into the sand at his side.

Thomas screamed in protest from being yanked off. He was breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face. "Daddy can't die. Dun let 'im die Mister John." He looked up at John with big, sad brown eyes already red from tears.

"You aren't going to die," John whispered, shifting to grab his husband's hand and squeeze it gently. "I promise. I won't let you die." He dropped his head and forced himself to calm down. No crying. He had to stay strong for Sherlock and Thomas. Kelly stood up slowly, saying something about more reeds but he had missed most of it. "Sherlock, I'm sorry. So sorry. Don't die. Please, I need you." He cleared his throat and lifted his head to study his husband.

Thomas stared at John for bit before he realized the other man wasn't paying attention to him. He sniffled, tears still falling. He dropped down next to Sherlock's legs, his head burying into the knee. It was uncomfortable but the boy didn't care. He needed some form of comfort and this seemed the only way he was going to get it at the moment.

"C'mere." John lifted his free arm and glanced at Thomas. "We'll sit here and wait for him to wake up, yeah? Keep each other company." And it was the least he could do, really. They both needed some comfort and they were both here. He squeezed Sherlock's hand and took a deep breath. The man's breathing was even and not labored so the new reed was holding up. What worried John was the high risk of infection Sherlock was being exposed to.

Thomas looked up at John and immediately crawled over to his other Dad. He wrapped both arms around John tightly as he continued to sob.

Sherlock slept until after the sun had set. A little over twelve hours. Every once in awhile he would groan in pain from pressure building up in his chest, before falling still again. His eyes slowly opened. His chest still hurt, no surprise really, considering. At least his headache was gone.

"'Hey." John smiled softly and moved a hand through Sherlock's hair. He pushed his dinner leaf out of the way and looked at the reed. Holding up, breathing evenly. "Kelly found loads more reeds. We might be set until Mycroft finds us if we ration them out," he spoke softly, continuing to comb his hand through his husband's hair. Right now they couldn't talk, not about the rather serious fight they'd had. Sherlock needed to build his strength up. "Water? Just nod or shake your head." He squeezed Sherlock's hand.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus on John. "I'm sorry..." Sherlock trailed off for a long moment, ignoring the question about water. "If...I don't make it...please don't let me die alone...I don't want to be alone..." He trailed off once more, eyes shifting to the ground after the request. He felt stupid for asking but up until now he never realized how much it scared him.

Thomas had refused to eat anything all day and he cried himself to sleep at Sherlock's side.

"You're not going to die," John said softly, leaning down to give his husband a quick, gentle kiss. "I am not leaving this island without you. Through sickness and health, yeah?" He managed a small smile and pressed their foreheads together the best he could manage at his awkward angle. "I'm going to take care of you and keep you alive, period. Amy needs both her Dads." The talk could wait. Right now Sherlock needed to stay positive. Kelly gave John the small pan with water in it and he shifted, moving to sit behind Sherlock so his husband could rest his head in John's lap. "Just a bit, dear." He lifted the pan to Sherlock's lips and tilted it slightly.

Sherlock nodded and took a drink of the water slowly. He closed his eyes in thought afterwards. John was avoiding talking about the fight. Shouldn't they be talking about this? It was the only thing his mind seemed capable of thinking about right now.

Thomas woke up and was elated to see Sherlock awake. He threw himself at his Daddy's stomach, giving it an awkward hug.

"Thomas, off!" John nearly shouted. The last thing Sherlock needed was pressure on any part of his body. "Sherlock is trying to heal and can't be hugged like that." He gently set the pan down and studied their new son. "You aren't in trouble but go help Kevin hunt, all right? Sherlock and I need to talk about grown up things." He looked down at Sherlock for a long moment. "I'm not leaving you. I... didn't mean to say what I did. People say things in the heat of the moment that they don't mean. I'm never going to leave you. I am never taking this ring off again and...and I did this to you, Sherlock. I can't just let you die. You are my husband and I have the rest of my life to spend with you."

Sherlock had grunted from the pressure, despite the boys small frame. He managed a weak smirk as be watched Thomas get off and walk away sulking. He listened to John quietly, nodding his head slightly afterwards. So they were going to talk. Good. "It wasn't that I really _wanted_ to die...I just thought..." He trailed off and closed his eyes. "...I don't know if I'll make it now...you should be worried about surviving...not me..." Too much talking. He fell into a fit of coughing.

John did his best to calm his husband down and try to stop the coughing fit. "I know you'll make it," he whispered softly, blue eyes focused intently on his husband. "You are Sherlock Holmes. You can't let some little soldier kill you like this. You've got to fight back, stay strong. Think of little Sandi, of Mum and Mycroft. We have yet to meet the new Siger. So many things, Sherlock...we've got so many things to do and I refuse to do them alone." The hand in his husband's hair stilled for a moment and he shook his head. "Don't give in. Fight. I'm here."

"I'm not trying to upset you Love, or giving up. I am just trying to be realistic about it." Sherlock coughed a bit. "I will do my best to make it." The odds were overwhelmingly against him though. If things went well he might last another week, he figured. That was being generous. In a few days he suspected his health would decline drastically. What was taking Mycroft so long?

"Don't. Please don't," John whispered as tears started to roll down his cheeks without his permission. "I don't want to look back and know I did this. I don't want to kill you." His words were desperate and he sobbed at the thought of losing his husband. "Don't leave me. I can't do this without you. I don't care if it sounds weak. I can't. I need you." The hand in his husband's hair started moving again as he tried to calm himself down.

"Not your fault. I purposefully provoked the attack. I thought...if I got you to beat me senseless, you would concentrate on being a doctor and not a soldier. I was just trying to help you. It...had seemed like a good idea at the time." Sherlock managed a short chuckle before he began coughing. "Please don't cry Love. I'll make it. I have got the best doctor in the world taking care of me." He squeezed John's hand and his free one reached up to wipe away the tears gently. "I love you."

"It is my fault, Sherlock. I...I don't know. I made you provoke me and I f-fell for it." John hiccuped slightly and tightened his legs against his husband's body. He lifted his husband's head and placed it more against his lap, letting the man wipe away his tears. "I love you, too. So much. I never meant any of it. I love being married to you, Sherlock. It is the greatest thing I could have ever done with my life. I've got to spend it all with you so you can't die." He hiccuped again and opened his eyes, red and puffy, to stare at Sherlock. He managed to smile slightly as he studied his husband's face.

"Both our faults," Sherlock muttered. Shit. He was getting tired again already. All the talking and coughing had exhausted his deteriorating body. He was getting worse, quicker than anticipated. He needed to make John feel better. "Doing well." A fit of aching coughs took over before his body stilled as sleep found him again.

"No you aren't," John whispered as he studied Sherlock. This wasn't supposed to happen. Sherlock was supposed to be healthy, making him smile; not laying in his arms near death. "Don't die," he whispered as he bent and placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "Don't leave me." He continued to run his hands through Sherlock's hair and let himself cry a bit.

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"There. That's...it is a chain of about six islands. It's got to be one of those." Mycroft let himself fall back in his chair, supporting Amy in his left hand. "I don't know which one but...one of them. It's the most logical spot given the last reported coordinates of the airplane." He glanced up at Anthea who nodded and instantly started typing furiously on her Blackberry.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note:

Short chapter because I like to be mean and be dramatic. For those who were asking, the reed thing in theory should work...but extremely unsanitary The leaves on top block out air flow and even though Sherlock is breathing the lung is punctured and it gradually deflates. With the reed inserted into his lung where it's punctured, when the leaves are removed oxygen is allowed back into the lung, thus it inflates. The changing of the read, was more for dramatic effect and in all reality only one reed would probably be needed. I may or may not have stolen the idea from a movie, although they used different items that weren't so crude.

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Thomas hadn't gone to help hunt. He had just wandered around aimlessly in a scared, grief stricken state. It was dark and he was lost and alone. He hadn't eaten all day and despite sleeping most of the day, he was tired. He collapsed and was about to sleep when in the moonlight he noticed an almond patch. Daddy had said these were okay to eat. Would he get in trouble for eating before the next mealtime? But he was so hungry. Maybe just a few, no one would notice right?

It had been a while and John, despite his worry for Sherlock, was getting nervous about Thomas. Kevin has returned and not said a word which meant the boy was out there wandering around. He stood slowly, sliding his jacket under his husband's head and slowly standing. He wandered into the trees behind camp and finally spoke. "Thomas?" His voice was level, even, hiding the fear he was actually experiencing. It was then he spotted a foot and relief flooded him. "Thomas." He moved and picked the boy up gently, holding him close to his chest. "Let's get you some food, mate." He placed a soft kiss on the boy's forehead and started back toward camp.

"I weren't eatin' nuffin'!" Thomas squeaked, as if his hand had been caught in the cookie jar. He blinked confused. Not in trouble? Go get food? He nodded and wrapped his arms around his dad's neck. "Is...is Daddy gonna die?" His brown eyes were large and scared. His little chest started heaving and he buried his face in John's neck as he started to cry again.

"Oh, Thomas, you are fine." John held the boy closer to him and moved toward their food hold, grabbing the basket of almonds and fruit before moving back to the shelter. He sat slowly, keeping the boy in his arms, and shook his head. "Daddy will be fine," he whispered softly as he took several almonds in his hand and pressed one to the boy's lips. "Here. Eat." He smiled warmly.

Thomas nodded, but fear and worry still lined his face. He looked at Sherlock's still form with a frown and then back to John. He ate the food at his lips automatically.

Talking. There was talking and movement near him. Sherlock groaned as he forced himself to wake up. He needed to comfort John. Oh, the boy was next to him now too. He reached out a hand and patted Thomas' weakly. "I'll be fine T.C." He coughed, pulling his arm back to his side. Why had that been so much effort? "John? Water, please." He coughed some more, eyes closing as if that would make the pain in his chest go away.

Thomas shrieked and jumped to his feet. "Zombie!" He managed to calm himself down when he realized his Daddy was still okay. Still human. All thought of food was forgotten and he promptly curled up against Sherlock's side.

John moved as fast as he could manage, grabbing the pan and lifting it to his husband's lips. "Keep yourself calm," he whispered, moving a hand to run through Sherlock's hair. Pale, weak. The sight of his partner made his stomach twist. God, he had done that. He pulled the pan away slowly to let his husband breathe and get some rest. "New reed? I want to try and clean the incision a bit and try to stitch up the second one I made, is that all right?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and then drank the water slowly . He closed his eyes again and gave a slight nod. "...be good..." He managed to wheeze out. He was quiet and still for awhile. "John...do..." He coughed. "...do you really think I will get the children killed?" He had considered it as a possibility when little Sandi was born. It was why he had gotten an office. Would that be enough? Assuming he lived long enough to worry about in the future.

John had set the water down and moved to grab a new reed, the vine and knife, before he heard Sherlock's question. Right. The fight. He had shouted it. "No," he whispered, moving back to his husband's side and hovering over him with a warm smile. "I know you won't. You got yourself an office, you are doing fine." He smiled and grabbed the extra pair of boxers he had in the shelter from Sherlock, slowly pulling the reed out and pouring some water on the fabric in his hands. "I don't think you will," he repeated as he cleaned around the wound before slowly putting a new reed into his husband's chest. Now all he needed to do was find a good way to stitch Sherlock's skin back together. Wasn't there a bird skeleton down by the fire pit? "Be right back, love." He smiled and stood, nearly jumping in joy when he found the bird skeleton. He ripped off a leg bone, the biggest one he could find, and plopped back next to Sherlock with his husband's knife. "You're doing fine. You are perfect," he whispered as he took the knife and started sharpening the bone.

Sherlock tried to move so he could see John, when his husband left but it was too difficult. "...sleep 'smore..." He muttered. At least when he was asleep, the pain in his chest didn't hurt. Would he be able to wake up next time? He had to. He had promised John.

Thomas finally uncurled himself from Sherlock, eyes red and puffy. He watched John, keeping quiet and still for once.

After spending several minutes sharpening the bone John glanced at his husband. Asleep. Peaceful. He swallowed hard and grabbed the vine, slicing it in half before taking the smaller, thinner piece. His husband was asleep and starting this would surely wake him up. He bit his bottom lip and cut a piece of vine off. Now or never. The longer he waited, the worse his husband got. "I love you," he whispered as he placed a soft kiss on the center of Sherlock's chest. He took w deep breath, steadied himself, and gently pushed the bone into once side of the incision, quickly pushing the small bit of vine.

Pain. Searing pain. Like someone was stabbing him in the chest. Sherlock woke up roughly, but he lacked the strength and energy to scream or thrash against whatever was happening. Eventually his gaze focused on John and he dimly recalled something about stitches. He tried to relax but ever since the chest pains started it had been next to impossible.

Thomas watched nervously, biting his bottom lip even though he wasn't supposed to. He couldn't take it anymore and ended up yelling at John. "Stop it! You hurting Daddy!" He began crying afterward, curling himself in a tight ball.

"I'm trying to fix him," John replied with a calm he didn't realize he had. God, Sherlock's eyes were so expressive and it was clear he was in pain. "Sorry, Sherlock. I'm sorry." He stabbed the bone through the other side, then the vine, and quickly tied it off. One stitch down. Two to go. "It's okay. Love, it is fine." He bent at the waist and gave his husband a quick kiss. "Two more and you'll be fine."

"...'sfine..." Sherlock muttered. His eyes closed but he wasn't sleeping. He was just trying to relax some more. Tired. Weak. Useless. No. He couldn't think like that even if it was true. He couldn't even comfort John when his husband needed it the most. He sighed at his thoughts. Sleep seemed his only chance at respite. Maybe when John was done he would be able to fall back into his slumber.

Damn it, this wasn't going too well. John cleared his throat and ran the bone through his husband's skin with a small wince. "When I proposed to you while I was in Afghanistan I actually had a ring," he whispered as he ran the vine through the needle marks and tied it, his fingers slipping a bit from the blood. "And I forgot it when I left for the hotel. But you had those rings so I just never told you." He laughed softly and moved to place a gentle kiss on his husband's cheek. Maybe he could manage to distract him for a bit.

John was talking. Sherlock opened his eyes, doing his best to keep focused on his husband and the words being spoken. Distraction. Perfect. He gave John a weak smile. "What did it look like?" He coughed a few times and then stilled. If he tried not to move too much it wasn't so bad. His husband was doing his best and he was just laying here letting his thoughts consume him. John was trying and damn it so should he.

"Simple gold band," John replied with a smile, pushing the bone through Sherlock's skin for the last time. "I was in the village and somebody had it for sale. We settled on a price and I decided that I was going to marry you." He smiled softly and finished the final stitch before sitting back. There. Finished. Right as the sun was going down. "Your rings were better, though."

"Wanted to get you something nice," Sherlock admitted with a small cough afterwards. Keep the conversation going. Don't think about the agony gripping his chest. "We should enroll Thomas in a school, once we get back to London. His grammar is atrocious." He smirked and then added, "I won't be able to concentrate on cases if he keeps talking like that." Shit. Too much. A round of painful coughing followed shortly after speaking.

"Shh," John said softly, moving to sit behind his husband and place the man's head in his lap running his fingers through his hair soothingly. "We can do that. And then you can publish your story for Amy." He nodded and bit his bottom lip, studying Sherlock intently. "Tomorrow. Maybe Mycroft will be here tomorrow."

"Have to finish it first," Sherlock muttered. "I'd tell you the next part, but…" He trailed off as coughing overtook him again. "Going to sleep some more." He tried to relax as best he could, his eyes sliding close. "Stay with me?" He asked before his body went still and his breathing evened out.

Thomas had been emotional mess all day. He had cried and slept most it away, so he just stayed curled in a ball a long while. Eventually his muscles got sore from the cramped position and he straightened out his limbs. He stared at Sherlock a long while before turning his sad brown eyes on John. "Never had school...it fun?"

John forced himself to relax as he watched his husband. The constant sleeping was worrying him. Sherlock never slept this much and it was clenching his gut, making him sick to his stomach. "Don't die," he whispered before Thomas stole his attention. School. Well, he was young so it wasn't a surprise. "It can be. You will learn so many new things." He smiled a bit, it was tight and forced and he didn't feel like talking. "You'll like it."

Sherlock's body was fighting infection and the only way it could do, is if his body rested. But it was a losing battle. He was weak and the constant stress on his damaged lung was taking its toll. He would eventually get worse, despite his body's best efforts to repair itself.

Thomas gave a slight nod. He shifted to stare at Sherlock again. "Dun die…you hafta be my Daddy…"

John couldn't sleep tonight, he decided with a small nod. He needed to stay awake, watch Sherlock and make sure his husband was okay. It would be tough but he couldn't just let Sherlock die. "Thomas, you can go to sleep." He smiled warmly at the boy. "Sherlock will be better when you wake up." He nodded and looker back down at his husband. They needed to be rescued now or he would be leaving the island without his husband.

"Been sleepin' all day," Thomas muttered. He was starving, his little tummy rumbling told him that. He hadn't really eaten all day. He just couldn't bring himself to eat. His stomach was in knots. He had to watch his Mum die. Watching his new Daddy die too, was just too much for him to handle. He sniffled and ran down to the shore to throw rocks at the water.

Well, that had gone over well. John watched Thomas for a moment before dropping his gaze back down to his husband. "I have never loved anybody like I love you. Don't leave me. I don't know how I'll live with myself knowing I killed you." He bent and placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock slept until the next day, groaning every now and then. He shivered even though there was perspiration on his forehead. Fever? Probably. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight. Shit. How long had he slept? Still hurt to breathe. Still declining health wise, but it was to be expected he supposed. "John?" He croaked out weakly. God his throat was sore. "More water please?" Just that had been exhausting. He was certain he would be able to sleep once more if he closed his eyes again.

John grabbed the water, careful so it wouldn't slosh over the sides, and pressed the pan against his husband's lips. He wasn't doing good at all. "Strong. Stay strong." He pulled the pan away and cleared his throat, trying to keep the tears from his eyes. It wouldn't do to cry at all. That's not what Sherlock needed. "Maybe today. Maybe Mycroft will find us today."

"That'd be good." Sherlock coughed a bit, followed by a shiver. "C-cold," he muttered and tried to snuggle into John but it was too much strain on his body to try and move anymore. Hopefully his husband was right and Mycroft would show up. He wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold on. "John, I love you." Another fit of coughing followed by a violent shiver.

"Here," John reached into the boy's shelter and grabbed Sherlock's coat, draping it over his husband. It was warm outside...Sherlock being cold wasn't good at all. "I love you, too." His voice broke because this was his fault, they wouldn't be here if he hasn't acted like such a selfish person. Like the coward he was. "Do you remember in Scotland when we shagged in the boat once we took it to shore? It's my favorite moment from that trip."

Sherlock clung to the coat as tightly as possible, trying to cover his entire body with it. "W-wanted to shag you in the b-boat but you s-said it would r-rock too much." He coughed some more, ignoring the metallic taste in his mouth and forcing himself to swallow it so John wouldn't see it. It would only worry his husband further. "Keep t-talking to me? Don't want to s-sleep." He was afraid if he did, he wouldn't wake up this time.

"I had a picture of you in my bulletproof vest in Afghanistan," John whispered, rubbing his hands roughly up and down his husband's arms to try and warm him up. "Some nights when we slept on patrol in the desert I would pull the picture out and wank to it." He smiled sheepishly before he noticed the red tint to his husband's lips. Blood. Shit. No, that meant... "Please don't die," he said brokenly. "I can't be the person who killed you."

Sherlock managed a weak smile at John's words but then it faltered. "I-I'm f-fine. Won't d-die on y-you. Mycroft will be h-here soon. He is j-just t-taking his t-time." He expected the coughing fit after talking, but this one had lasted much longer than any of the previous ones. "T-think I n-need a new r-reed." The coat wasn't helping to keep him warm and he shivered again.

New reed. Right. John leaned forward and slowly pulled the reed out, wincing as he grabbed the new one. "Here." He slowly pushed it into his husband's chest, biting his bottom lip. This wasn't good and somewhere, deep down, he knew that his husband wasn't going to live and he suddenly let tears roll down his face. This was his entire fault and his husband was suffering because of it.

Sherlock's hand shook the entire time but he managed to reach John's face to wipe away a few of the tears. "Don't c-cry my dear doctor. I'm not d-dead y-yet." He managed the faintest of smirks. Eventually his hand felt heavy and he had to drop it back to his side. Only it felt like that moment was fast encroaching upon him and his husband knew it. "P-please, need y-you." Was he being selfish for such a request? If John had given up already, why was he still fighting?

Not dead yet but suffering, weak. John nodded and cleared his throat, blinking several times before licking his lips. "S-Sorry," he hiccuped and took several deep breaths. "I'm here. Right here. I am going to stay with you." He had to, he didn't have a choice. Leaving would be rude, childish. Even if it was hard to watch. This was his punishment for doing this to his husband. "You are the strongest man I know. You will be fine, I know you will. You're not meant to die on some island."

Sherlock was about to reply but a fit of coughing racked his body before any words came out. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain that shook his entire upper torso every time it happened. When his eyes opened, they were unfocused. "John, it's c-cold in the f-flat. Tell Mrs. H-Hudson to turn the h-heat on." The fever was starting to take over as he slipped into a delusional state. His body was going to shock.

Shit. No. "Sherlock, we are on the island," John whispered brokenly. This was the end, wasn't it? This was when his husband died because he killed him. "C'mon, focus. You're okay. You will be fine." He closed his and gently pulled his husband further into his lap. "I love you."

Sherlock tried to feebly get away from his husband. "J-John what are you d-doing? I have case to w-work! S-stop acting like an i-idiot!" Damn it, why was it so cold in here? "I can't w-work in these r-ridiculous conditions! Where is my v-violin?" His eyes cleared briefly, focusing up at his husband. "I'm s-sorry John, I t-tried…" His eyes closed, the shivers that had taken over stilling along with his chest.


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note:

Longer chapter to make up for the last two that were kind of short! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews!

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"No! Sherlock, no!" John was crying now and somebody was pulling him away. Kevin? Why was the man pulling him away from his husband. "No! He is my husband!" But Kevin was shouting something and there was a sudden deafening noise, a massive rush if wind. Helicopter? He ripped out of Kevin's grasp and darted toward his husband, picking him up and darting toward the helicopter that had just landed. "Now! Ta-"

"What did you do?" Mycroft's eyes were wide and, damn it, Sherlock needed help.

"He isn't breathing! Move!" John shoved into the medical helicopter, laying him on the gurney and transforming smoothly into doctor mode. He pulled the reed from his husband's chest, easily replacing it with a sterile tube and hooking up an air pump. He instantly started pumping air into Sherlock's chest, placing an oxygen mask on his husband's mouth and nose and turning it on. "Breathe. Breathe, damnit!"

Thomas ran after John and climbed in after them. The adults didn't even notice. They were all staring at Daddy. His other Dad was yelling at Daddy to breathe. The was another man, he had a weird nose. He curled up, hugging his knees to himself. He was hungry and tired, but he had to stay awake to make sure Daddy was okay.

So much noise. He was so weak and tired. Sherlock didn't want to wake up, but John's frantic voice reached him brought him back. Alive? He was still breathing? How? What? Christ he was tired. His eyes were open for only moment and he was certain he had seen his older brother. That couldn't be. His eyes closed again but his chest was rising and falling now.

Breathing. Oh, God, Sherlock was alive and his eyes had opened slightly. "Hi," he whispered with a weak laugh even though his husband had closed his eyes again. After several moments he relaxed before turning to Mycroft. "Later, we can talk about it...later." He smiled warmly as Kevin and Kelly squeezed into the helicopter. Maria. He needed to find her. "Mycroft, this is Thomas. Sherlock saved him. We are adopting him." He clambered out of the helicopter and started running toward the center of the island.

Right. That was a lot of information. Mycroft turned slowly and studied Thomas, curled in a ball and scared. And apparently his new nephew. "Hi Thomas, I'm Mycroft. I'm your uncle." He smiled warmly and crouched down in front of the boy.

Thomas watched John leave. "Dad!" He screeched. He looked to Sherlock laying down. "Daddy…" He whispered, deciding to stay rather than leave. He looked up at the man with a weird nose. Uncle? "You have a silly name like Daddy." He stay curled tightly against himself. His gaze kept flickering from Sherlock and back out of the helicopter where John had run.

"I do have a silly name like Sherlock." Mycroft smiled softly and studied the little boy. Brown hair, brown eyes. He turned and glanced at his younger brother. A family man. It was odd but very...amazing. He turned back to Thomas and pulled a snack from his jacket. "Here. Take a few bites of my granola bar." He handed it to the small boy.

It didn't take long to find Maria, curled under a tree in exhaustion. John easily picked her up and started walking back toward the helicopter. "Here." He smiled up at Mycroft and slid the woman on to the helicopter and climbing in himself. He wedged in front of his brother-in-law, picked Thomas up, and moved to Sherlock. "There's Daddy," he whispered as he placed a kiss on the boy's cheek.

Thomas took it and ate the thing in two bites, barely taking time to chew before swallowing. He clung to John as soon as he was picked up. "Dunno why you saved her! She's mean!" He stuck his tongue out at Maria before turning his attention to Sherlock. "Not gonna die?" His little chest was heaving again, on the verge of tears. "We go to London now?"

"To London," John replied with a smile as Kelly and Kevin settled in and Mycroft moved Maria into a seat. "I saved her because it is polite, Thomas." He smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair with his free hand. "People may be mean but that doesn't mean you have to leave them behind." His hand dropped and he grabbed his husband's, giving it a squeeze.

Thomas pouted and then fell asleep in John's arms. He hadn't slept since last night or eaten except for the granola bar. He was exhausted physically and emotionally.

Sherlock's eyes opened and he gave John's hand a small squeeze. He was still weak and tired but he was feeling marginally better. He wasn't sure entirely what happened but he knew they weren't on the island anymore.

John couldn't help the wide smile that took over his lips when Sherlock opened his eyes. God, he had nearly killed his husband. He vowed to not touch the man ever, to not injure him or put him in pain. After a long moment he shifted and hoisted Thomas a bit higher on his hip so the boy could rest his head on John' shoulder.

"What happened?" Mycroft asked softly, looking at John curiously.

"Later. Not now." John shook his head, glanced at Mycroft, and bent down to smile at Sherlock. "I love you."

Sherlock had to remove the oxygen mask to talk. "Love you too my dear doctor." It was difficult to speak still and he put the mask back on. He glanced to Mycroft and back to John. He shook his head. It wasn't any of his older brother's business.

Talking and moving. It was something that the man hadn't been doing just a few minutes ago. Sherlock was alive and John hadn't killed him. The thought made him smile like an idiot, wide and nothing but teeth, and he ignored Kelly offering him a seat in favor of standing next to his husband, getting hooked up to an IV for hydration, and staring at his face. Pale but no more shivering. Awake. "Don't ever leave me," he whispered.

Just that little movement and talking had exhausted him. Sherlock closed his eyes as sleep found him again. His body needed it and was still fighting the infection, but he wasn't losing against it now. Surgery would still be needed to repair his lung so he could breathe properly again.

Now all they had to do was wait. John knew that their wait in the hospital was going to be long. So long. Sherlock probably had multiple infections. Hell, the stitches on his side were made from a bloody vine. He glanced at Mycroft, who was studying the rest of the survivors, before sliding to the floor beside the gurney, balancing Thomas in his lap and finally letting himself relax.

Sherlock remained asleep the rest of the helicopter ride. They took him to the hospital closest, Barcelona Spain. He was wheeled into surgery right away, and was in there for several hours. Once the doctors were done, they rolled the consulting detective into a room in the ICU where doctors could keep a close eye on their patients recovery.

John stared intently at his husband, holding Thomas close against his chest. They both had new clothes, thanks to Mycroft. Clean. Healthy. He pulled Thomas a bit closer to his chest before reaching out to grab his husband's arm. Infection. Punctured and then collapsed lung. Two broken ribs. He had lied easily to the doctor, saying it happened when Sherlock had slipped on a rock near the water and landed roughly on his side. He would never be able to say he'd done it. That he'd nearly killed his husband. "Alive. Strong." He smiled softly and squeezed his husband's hand.

Thomas was curled against John, sleeping against his Dad's chest.

Sherlock didn't wake up until a couple hours after being wheeled into the ICU. Someone was holding his hand. He would spoke John's name but a tube was breathing for him currently. Right. A hospital. His favorite place to be.

"Keeping it in this time," John said softly, smiling as he watched his husband. "You were a right mess." He nodded. A horrid mess, really. Things John had done to nearly kill him. "Your lung...it still needs a bit more help before I can do anything to make you a bit more comfortable. I'm not letting you die again." He squeezed Sherlock's hand and lifted it, leaning to the side to kiss his husband's knuckles.

Sherlock nodded. That meant staying in this place longer than he would like. After a moment of thinking he used his free hand to 'write' in the air. It was a simple message really, and he had no doubt his husband would be able to pick up on it.

John felt his mouth break into a large, foolish grin. "I love you, too. So much." He nodded a bit and looked down at Thomas. "Mycroft is back in London, should be back soon. Taking a boat so he can bring Amy." And that made him giddy, happy. "Fast boat, because he is Mycroft. Should be here tomorrow." He nodded excitedly. Maybe that would help cheer his husband up a bit, make the hospital a bit better. The entire family.

Sherlock groaned internally. Apparently the message wasn't as clear as he had hoped. He wanted a writing utensil and paper to write on. He closed his eyes in thought for a moment. He slipped his hand out of John's, repeated the motion on his hand.

The talking and movement woke up Thomas. He whined a little until he became awake enough to realize his daddy was awake! "Daddy!"

Oh. Not right, then? John looked around before setting Thomas on the ground. "Do not jump on Daddy," he muttered as he stood up moved toward the clipboard on the end of his husband's hospital bed. "Here, love." He handed it to Sherlock, turning a paper upside down and handing his partner the pen. He felt a bit horrible for not getting the message the first time around. "I do still love you."

Thomas was about to just that when John said no. He pouted and settled for clinging to Sherlock's hand as tightly as he could.

Sherlock smirked at John behind the intubation down his throat. He took the pen and paper with his free hand. So many questions. Where should he start? He scribbled one down. 'Did you tell Mycroft yet? If you haven't, don't.'

Right. Mycroft. John shook his head. "Keeps bugging me about it. I think he knows something but just wants to hear it." His head dropped. It felt like he should tell his brother-in-law but if Sherlock said no... "I should tell him. Why are we hiding it?"

Sherlock gave a slight shrug, his eyes closing in thought. It was difficult to try and explain without talking. He sighed and wrote another note. 'Fine. Let me do it, when I am able then.' He hated being in this state. Stuck in a hospital. Unable to communicate properly. He was getting frustrated. He wrote another message. 'I am guessing they had to give me drugs. When it is safe to do so, I want off. I don't care how much pain I am in.'

John smiled a bit before he nodded his head. "Okay but you are going to be on some sort of medication. We can change it to ibuprofen if you want. Non-addictive." He shrugged before biting his bottom lip. Was it possible to start a fight via paper? He figured he was about to find out. "I want to tell Mycroft," he stated softly, eyes determined. "It's all my fault."

Sherlock shook his head as best he could. He was worried about how Mycroft would receive the news. 'Please. Don't.' He was far too weak and tired to fight with John. 'Please. John, for me?' His gaze locked on his husband's. It was torn away when he felt Thomas climbing up on the bed and curling at his feet. He managed a small smile at the boy before he looked back over to John.

The man had a way with words even if he wasn't speaking. John envisioned Mycroft punching him, throwing him in prison. He looked at his husband for a long moment before shrugging. "Then don't tell him at all. I don't want him to know because...I'm embarrassed. Sherlock, I lost my judgment and I nearly killed you. I... don't want him to know if I can't tell him." It was probably selfish but he knew Sherlock would take all the blame if he was the one to tell Mycroft.

Sherlock was still for a moment as he thought on what John said. 'If you want to tell him, then perhaps we should do it together?' There. Compromising. Communicating. Maybe they really were getting better at this. Well, he supposed it was all depended on how his husband reacted now. God, he really didn't want to argue. He honestly didn't have the energy for it.

Together. That sounded a lot better. "Okay," John said softly as he glanced around the room for a moment. "I lied to the doctors, too but I can't...I can't bring myself to even touch you anymore. I don't deserve you after what I did. I just...I'm so scared. I almost lost you." He dropped his gaze to his lap and weakly shrugged. If they were going to keep communicating then he should be completely honest with his husband.

Good. It was probably better that John lied to the doctors. He managed a smirk as he wrote once more. 'If you think I am keeping my hands to myself once I get the hell out of here, you better think again.' He hesitated and then added. 'Guess I'll just get to have all the fun then.' The smirk got bigger as he looked back up to his husband.

John managed a bit of a smile, a small laugh, and shrugged. "Guess so," he whispered. How else did he explain that he was literally afraid to touch Sherlock? What if he hurt him again? Killed him? He was a horrible husband, wasn't he? Sherlock had wanted a rough shag before he for hurt but he couldn't bring himself to do that now. He honestly hated himself. "Thought I lost you."

Sherlock frowned as he studied John. It was difficult to comfort his husband when he couldn't talk or get out of the bed. Thomas had tangled himself in his legs, probably to seek comfort. He gave another smirk. 'Too stubborn to die.' Another hesitation, his smirk disappearing. 'I am sorry I tried to give up on you on the island.'

Reading what Sherlock wrote twisted his gut and John had to look away. "Your chest stopped moving and I thought...I thought I lost you." He shook his head. Weak. Coward. He always would be, his husband was right. "I killed you, Sherlock. You died because I walked away and I was weak and a coward. I don't think I will ever be able to live with myself." His voice broke and he finally looked up at Sherlock. "And I'm sorry for that."

Sherlock shook his head, scribbled furiously on the paper and disentangled his feet from Thomas. He stood up, holding the paper. His body shook under his weight and he was forced to use John for support. 'Not a coward. I was the one who pushed you away. /I/ was the coward." He shoved the paper at his husband's chest before steadying himself on John's shoulders, eyes staring into his husband's intently. He ignored the strain and stress of the wires attached him. The tube down his throat was also a discomfort. He shouldn't be standing with it in, but he didn't care.

John read the message and looked up at his husband. He wasn't going to agree or disagree with Sherlock because they each shared fault in what happened. But his husband was making an effort to make him feel better. "Lay back down," he said softly, managing to keep his voice calm and even. "Need to start feeling better." He stood on his toes and placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's cheek before gently moving him to at least sit on the hospital bed. "They gave you actual stitches," he joked softly as he ran a hand through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock nodded but before laying down, he embraced John in a hug. He clung to his husband awhile, his forehead resting on the top of John's head. Once he released his husband he laid down on the bed. He had needed that hug for awhile now.

When Sherlock returned, Thomas curled around his daddy's feet again. He had been pretty quiet lately. Just watching everything with wide eyes.

John returned the hug as strong as he dared before his husband moved back to the bed. It didn't take long for him to collapse into the chair behind him, clearly a bit in shock. What did they do now? Wait. Make sure Sherlock was healing. Keep his mouth shut. Don't tell anybody that this was his fault. It shouldn't be too difficult because Amy would be with them as early as tomorrow, something that made a tired smile tug at his lips. "We will have the whole family here tomorrow, dear." He reached out and grabbed his husband's hand, giving it a small squeeze.

'That will be good, Love.' Sherlock gave a small smile to John. Shit. He was tired already. Probably a combination of whatever drugs he was on and his body needing to heal. Was his mother coming as well? He hoped not. He didn't want her to see him like this. It would only make her worry and she had been doing enough of that lately. He picked up the pen to write the question down, but his eyes closed and the pen fell to the side before he even got one letter written.

More sleeping. Right now though, in this environment, John was comforted. Sherlock was healing and standing up had probably taken it out of him. He grabbed the pen and paper and set it on the small table next to the bed before turning his attention to Thomas. "Want to come back over here, mate? We should let Daddy sleep."

Thomas looked over to John and shook his head. He curled a little closer to Sherlock, his gaze shifting up to look at his Daddy. He needed to reassure himself that his new Daddy was okay. He couldn't lose his Daddy. Not after losing his Mum. He had left her and she died. He couldn't leave. Daddy might die otherwise. He sniffled at his thoughts but didn't cry. He put a finger to his mouth and made a quiet 'shh' noise and the fell still.

John frowned and tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it for a moment. "Okay," he whispered softly before squeezing his husband's hand. It was endearing, he supposed, that Thomas wanted to stay with Sherlock and keep him safe. "I love you," he whispered to his husband. "And I can't wait to get back to 221B and sleep in our bed, see Amy, snuggle with you." He lifted Sherlock's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles.

Sherlock slept a little under two hours. He was already feeling better. The antibiotics for the infection must be working. The pressure in his chest was gone but it was still sore. Probably due to over use and the fact his chest had been split open…again. He sighed at his thoughts and finally shifted his gaze to John, sitting next to his bed. He gave his husband a small smile.

Even with a breathing tube the man's smile made John giddy, made his stomach twist like they had just started dating. "Hi." He squeezed Sherlock's hand and smiled back, studying his husband intently. "I wanted to let you know that you are wonderful," he whispered with a small laugh. "You're amazing. Strong. A fighter. And you're my husband. I sat here and watched you sleep and I...I love you."

Sherlock smiled. A thought occurred to him and he wasn't sure why it hadn't before. Did John know sign language? He hadn't used it in years but he had learned it while working a case once. It would be much more efficient than writing on paper. He released John's hand, reached over and grabbed the pen and paper. 'Do you now sign language by chance?'

Sign language. John chuckled a bit before lifting his hands. 'Yes. Rusty.' He shrugged sheepishly. It wasn't a horrible skill to have, especially in the Army. It was an extremely useful skill when talking to people who didn't speak English. 'Can read better.' Another shrug, a nervous giggle, and he finally closed his eyes. How embarrassing. He was making a fool of himself. 'Question.' He paused and shook his head. "Did you have a question?"

Sherlock smirked and shook his head. 'No, I just thought this would be easier. You are full of surprises my Love.' The smirk got bigger. 'You don't have to sign, since I can hear you.' Were his hands moving too fast for his husband? He had slipped back into easily and quickly, hopefully John had been able to follow what he had signed.

John nodded and lifted his hands, pausing for a moment before moving his hands. 'Trying. Love you.' After a long pause he cleared his throat and scrunched his face in thought. 'How you feeling?' God, he was horrible at this and he knew it but maybe his nervous laughter would cheer his husband up a bit. It was the least he could do since Sherlock was in the hospital because of him in the first place.

Sherlock smiled. Conversation was definitely going smoother and quicker. 'I love you too. I'm feeling better.' He paused, reluctant to admit more. 'In a bit of pain. I think the medication is wearing off. Probably need another dose soon.' Another pause, because the admission had been difficult. He didn't _want_ the drugs but God, it would make the increasing pain in his chest ebb. 'When will they be able to remove this tube?"

John paused for a moment. 'Taken off pain medicine.' His look was remorseful but a bit proud because he felt like he had been helping. 'On strong ibuprofen. Sleep aid.' He nodded, clearly grinning because he'd managed to sign that sentence. 'That okay?' He had done it the last time his husband was asleep after the man had requested it. Had he done something wrong? 'Soon for tube. Less than day.'

Oh. It was probably for the best. Right then. 'That will be fine.' At least the tube would be removed from his throat soon. 'It will be good to see Amy.' On the island Sherlock had admitted to missing their daughter. It was a strange feeling, something he had never really felt. The only other time he had ever really missed anyone was when John had gone back to war shortly after they had started dating.

Amy. John grinned foolishly and nodded, running a hand down his face. 'Excited. Miss her.' God, their daughter. It had been over a month since he had seen her and from the sounds of it she was growing up. Holding her head up, probably sitting up a bit on her own. He couldn't believe it. 'Bet she misses you.' Because his voice had calmed her down when she was in the womb so it wouldn't surprise him if his husband's voice still made Amy happy.

Was little Sandi old enough to miss anyone yet? Probably not. Best to humor John though. 'I am sure she misses you too.' Sherlock gave his husband a smile. 'How is Thomas doing? He has been quiet awhile now.' It was unlike the boy to be so still and silent. Perhaps Thomas was in shock? He glanced down to the boy at his feet. Asleep. That was good he supposed. He returned his attention to John.

'Quiet.' John smiled a bit and glanced down at their new son. Fast asleep, curled against his husband's toes. It made him laugh a bit. This was good, despite their current situation. In a hospital because he had nearly killed Sherlock but they were laughing, smiling a bit. Talking. 'Can't wait to hear your voice.' An admission that he'd never actually told his husband but the sound of Sherlock's voice always calmed him down. Deep, low. God, just thinking about it made a shiver run up his spine.

'Can't wait until I get to shag you again.' Sherlock gave John a mischievous smirk. The thought made him squirm a bit. His husband still owed him a fierce shagging but…would John be up for that? Or would his partner treat him with kid gloves? Clearly, his husband blamed himself for what had happened. He supposed, they shared responsibility in the whole ordeal. Think of something else. No brooding. John was laughing and smiling. He needed to keep his husband happy.

John replayed the hand movements in his head several times before he finally figured out what his husband had signed to him. Oh. Right. What did he say back to that? He laughed a bit before clearing his throat. 'You sure?' Because...he wasn't. At all. He didn't think he was ever going to be rough with Sherlock again. Not after this. What if he hurt him again? Killed him? He couldn't risk it at all. 'I...Scared.' His blue eyes looked up at his husband nervously and he cleared his throat. It was jarring in the silence.

Right. Of course he would find away to ruin their conversation. 'There is no need to be Love. I am not scared in the least.' What had happened was a freak accident and extremely unlikely to be repeated even if the exact same conditions were met again. How was he supposed to find a way to reassure his husband? Sherlock sighed into the tube. That was twice now he had managed to ruin sex for John.

Apparently that conversation had gone down hill. John looked away from Sherlock for a moment, studying the floor. Suck it up. Sherlock was hurt, it was his fault. 'Going to shag hard.' He signed slowly, lifting his gaze to hold it with his husband's. 'Like island. Fast. Rough. Screaming.' He smirked and it held pride he didn't even know he had within him because if it would make Sherlock happy then, damn it, he would do it.

That made Sherlock smirk broadly. 'God, I love you so much.' The smirk managed to get bigger. 'You might want to wait until I am out of the hospital though. Even I know that is a bit not good.' There. Better, yes? Hopefully. He hated fighting with John more than he hated being bored in between cases. Cases. To be back home in London. 'When do I get to leave?'

John laughed and nodded, smiling broadly from ear to ear. Of course Sherlock would know how to make him laugh, to fix everything. But then he shrugged and couldn't answer the last question. 'No idea. Big surgery. Infection. Lung.' In his medical opinion they would probably be in the hospital for another week, at least. They needed to make sure Sherlock's lung would hold up and that the infection was gone. 'Patient then good shag.'

'Me being a patient, patient?' Hah, yeah right. _That _would be the day. Sherlock would have to wait though and he knew that. How many times would he almost die and have to waste days in a stupid hospital? 'What about getting moved to a hospital in London?' He didn't want to stay in…where the hell were they anyway? He took a moment to focus on the conversation outside and it didn't take him long to figure it out. 'We are in Spain? Northern part. Barcelona most likely?'

"Jesus Christ, really?" John spoke for the first time as he glanced out the window. "Sherlock, stop being such a genius!" He giggled and stood up, running a hand gently up and down his husband's arm as he tilted his head to study Sherlock's face. "Could probably transfer you in a few days? I would have to probably take a boat with Amy, bit too dangerous to fly with her yet." He lifted his hand up and ran it through his husband's hair softly. "I am sure we can get you back to London soon. Apparently Lestrade has a pile of cases for you to look at, could probably knock those out while you are recovering."

Sherlock smirked again. He loved when John complimented him on his deduction. No one had ever done that before. It had surprised him the first time, but in a good way. Not many people could surprise him. It was why he had been so impressed with John when they first met, really. Cases. But…he was supposed to be family man now. He was going to have to learn to swing both anyway. Might as well get a head start on it. 'Of course he does. The only thing the Detective Inspector can find is tea and doughnuts.'

That made John snort a bit, his hand staying in his husband's hair. "Oi, he is good at other things. I am sure he is going to make a fantastic husband and father," he whispered as he checked to make sure that the was on the side of Sherlock's chest that didn't have stitches before he gently climbed on to the bed. He managed to situation himself so his feet wouldn't hit Thomas and Sherlock's head could rest on his chest. Contact, comfort. Things they both needed right now. "I can look after the kids for a bit if you want to check those cases over," he whispered into Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock snuggled into John immediately. He had thought about asking his husband to climb into the bed with him earlier but he had been worried it would upset John. That his husband would shy away from the thought. It was something John needed to do on his own, he figured. The contact was welcomed and needed. 'I love you.' Talking about cases could wait. He was going to spend some time just laying in his husband's arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note:

There is more drama to come, but for now something a little more lighthearted for you.

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"I love you, too," John replied softly. This was...nice. Certainly not as bad as he thought it would be. Touching Sherlock, not injuring him. He was good at this. "You are wonderful," he whispered with a smile. "You are fantastic. Perfect. You always will be."

Sherlock would much rather snuggle than continue to sign. He leaned his head on John's shoulder, took their hands together and intertwined them. He gave his husband a quick, gentle squeeze.

Thomas stirred at the bottom of the bed and he crawled up to John's chest. He curled up there, his eyes staring up at Sherlock.

John looked down at Thomas and smiled, wrapping his free arm the boy on his chest and returning the gentle squeeze to his husband's hand. "See Thomas? Daddy is fine." He smiled warmly and ruffled their son's hair. "Just fine." He turned his head and gave Sherlock a gentle kiss on his cheek. His husband. Alive and curled against him. "You can go to sleep, dear," he whispered softly.

Sherlock shook his head. He wasn't tired right now. He couldn't imagine anything more perfect than being nestled into his husband. He wanted to enjoy it and make it last while he was still feeling alert.

Thomas looked over to John. "Daddy okay now?" He asked, even though he had just been told Sherlock would be just fine.

"Just fine," John said to Thomas with a nod. "We will be back in London soon after your Dad heals from his slip on those rocks." There. Maybe they could convince the boy to follow the story he had made up so nobody would have to know what happened on the island. He turned his head and placed a kiss on his husband's temple, squeezing his partner's hand. Being this close was nice and now he didn't want to stop touching Sherlock.

Right. Fell on some rocks. No one else had been there, so far as Sherlock knew no one else was privy to the information. He released John's hand but kept his head nuzzled against his husband's shoulder. 'Does anyone on the island know what happened?' Had John told anyone while he had been dying?

Thomas' gaze flickered back to Sherlock. What was Daddy doing with his hands?

"Kelly saw," John whispered brokenly. "Didn't hear any of the conversation so she still thinks...she thinks I just hit you..." He cleared his throat. God, this wasn't good at all. Kelly had probably gone off and told Kevin. "So those two know and Maria...I saved her. Wouldn't be right to leave her there."

Sherlock frowned a bit. 'Do you think she told anyone else?' God, John couldn't go to jail in some foreign country. Of course, in most countries unless a formal complaint was filed with the authorities then no charges would be brought forth in the case of a domestic. And he sure as hell wasn't going to press charges against his own husband.

Thomas didn't understand what was happening. He turned his gaze back to John. "Y-you hurt Daddy?" The words were barely a whisper, broken.

"Kevin. I know she told him." John took a shaky breath because he knew the implications. He could go to jail and Spain wasn't a place he was keen to be stuck in. "So they both know what happened, she just actually saw it." This wasn't good at all. Now all he could think about was how he was going to end up in jail. Thomas had said something and his stomach dropped. "No, Thomas. It's fine. It's...fine."

'Everything will be fine Love.' Sherlock dropped his hand back into John's and gave it another squeeze. John had already suffered enough. His husband didn't deserve to go to jail.

Thomas bit his bottom lip for a while. "O-okay." He wasn't really sure what was going on right now. Daddy wasn't talking but still seemed to be saying something to Dad. Was it because of the hand movements?

It was easy for Sherlock to say that because he wasn't the one with the chance to go to jail. John nodded hesitantly and looked down at Thomas. The boy would never talk to him again if he figured out this was all his fault. "I'm sorry." He turned his head and whispered in his husband's ear. "I will never hurt you again. I will never be a coward. I will stay strong for you."

Sherlock gave John another reassuring squeeze, this one longer. He had been able to cheer his husband up before. They had just been joking and laughing a few moments ago. He couldn't wait for the tube to be taken out. Then he could be better at comforting John.

Thomas crawled up a bit on John some more, wrapping his arms around his Dad's neck. "Kay, I trust you." He hugged John tightly.

How in the world had a kid managed to twist his gut with those words? There was no way John could tell Thomas that, actually, he had tackled Sherlock to the ground and nearly killed him. He tightened the arm around his son and let his eyes slip closed. "'S fine. We will figure it out. I...don't want your Mum to know. She probably already does."

Sherlock released John's hand once more. 'Probably not. We can discuss this some more when the tube is removed. Is my mother coming?' He had meant to ask that earlier but had fallen asleep before he could.

Thomas stayed curled against his Dad. "I love my daddies."

"I don't know. Mycroft didn't say." John pressed his nose against his husband's cheek and pulled him closer. "Please forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I love you." He shifted and nipped slightly at Sherlock's ear. Probably not smart but he couldn't help himself. His free hand scratched up and down Thomas's back.

The closeness with John was wonderful and oh God, did his husband just nip his ear? Of course he would think about shagging while in the hospital. It wasn't like they hadn't done it before. Sherlock squirmed a bit at th thought. 'I love you too and I am not mad at you for anything. John, I forgive you.'

Thomas watched his new dads. "Are you gonna kiss like on the island?" Would he be sent away now?

John laughed and glanced at Thomas. "No, we're not," he said with a grin. He pulled his face away from Sherlock for a moment, instantly missing the contact. "We try not to kiss like that in public, mate." He ruffled the boy's hair and turned his head, pressing his nose against his husband's ear. "Not yet. Maybe tomorrow when this tube is out," he whispered for Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked. Not kiss in public? Right. Never mind all the public places they had shagged while on their honeymoon. Bathrooms. On a plane. Oh God, the alley. That had been amazing. He had been blindfolded and he shagged his husband into a brick wall. Shit. Just thinking about it was starting to give him an erection. He shifted, crossing his legs so the bulge wouldn't be obvious through the thin gown and the sheet over him.

"I'm hungry," Thomas whined. He hadn't really eaten since his Daddy had been hurt. He had literally made himself sick with worry and when he tried to eat it would just come back up and his tummy would feel awful.

John noticed the subtle movement and smirked but his attention was taken away by Thomas. Hungry. Of course he was hungry at a time like this. "Going to get our son some food. Try not to misbehave while I'm gone." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek and stood up, keeping Thomas wrapped securely in his arms. "C'mon kiddo. Let's find you some food," he moved toward the door and glanced back at his husband with a knowing smirk. "Be back soon." He slipped out the door smoothly and started heading toward the hospital's café.

Right. The boy would be hungry right now. Sherlock missed the contact as soon as John got up off the bed. He had a family to worry about now, so it was best to get used to situations like these because they would probably happen often once they were back in London.

Thomas tried wiggled out of his dad's grasp. "I'mma big boy! I can walk!"

"Oi, sorry." John laughed a bit and set Thomas down, grabbing the boy's hand with a small smile. "Wanted to make sure you weren't too tired," he added as he pushed the door to the café open and looked around. Mycroft probably had a charge account open for them. He looked at the menu and then down at Thomas. "Grilled cheese or hamburger?"

Thomas smiled for the first time in a couple of days. "_Both_!" He shouted enthusiastically. "I'mma hungry Dad! I gotta grow up big and strong like you and Daddy!" He was practically salivating at the thought of food and everything smelled so delicious. "Do they have hot dogs and mac and cheese too? What about chips? Cake? Biscuits?" He was jumping every now and then so he could look over the counter.

John laughed a bit and lifted Thomas up to rest on his hip, looking at the food. "I will get you some chips and biscuits. Not a problem." He took a few steps to the right and looked at the woman who asked for their order. "A grilles cheese, hamburger with chips, and biscuits. Aaaand a warm black tea." He grinned a bit as the woman just wrote it down and had a card ready to go. It didn't take long until their food was ready and John picked it up, moving to a table. "Not too fast," he said as he sat down with his tea and took a small sip.

Thomas shoved biscuits into his mouth immediately but forced himself to chew the food completely at John's words. He ate some chips next and spoke around a mouthful of food, "Thirsty!" He continued eating, taking a big bite out of the grilled cheese sandwich but at least chewing some before swallowing.

Thirsty? Jesus, this kid had no concept of please and thank you. John stood slowly. Thomas was young. No soda or high sugar drinks. He got water and set it in front of the boy with a laugh. "What do you say?" He sat back down and reached across the table, grabbing a chip and popping it in his mouth.

Say? Thomas shrugged. "Hey! Mine! Get your own!" His eyes were wide and his small chest was heaving now. "Water?" He pouted. "No apple juice?" He continued to put food in his mouth, having only the hamburger left to eat now. Even though he had just complained about his beverage he grabbed the glass and began drinking the water in loud noisy gulps.

If Sherlock were with them John was fairly sure the man would have a heart attack. "Thomas, please and thank you?" He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "And you can share food. If you need more I can go and get it." He lifted his tea and watched the boy for a long moment. "We are going to have to teach you manners," he whispered before taking a small sip from his cup. "You need the water, Thomas."

Thomas shrugged at John, as he set the glass down and began eating the hamburger. "Mummy said only prisses and prats have manners. I none of those! Ya havta take what ya want, when you wanna it." He shrugged again, devouring the burger in a few more bites. He grabbed the water again and slurped at it until it was gone.

"Right. In this family we use manners. You are part of this family." John finished his tea and sat back in his chair. "Please. Thank you. How you eat. You are going to change a bit, Thomas." He cleared his throat and studied his son. "You'll learn it in school, too. I'm excited for you."

Thomas frowned, gnawing on his bottom lip but he nodded slowly. "Sorry," he muttered and stopped chewing his lip. He fell quiet, staring at the table. He was in trouble wasn't he? "Still stay?" A pause and he looked back up at his Dad. "Please?"

"Oh Thomas, of course you can still stay." John moved his hand across the table and he smiled. "You are our little boy, Thomas. You can still stay with us, we're just going to teach you some new things." There. He had to keep the boy as positive as possible. It was going to be tough for the first few days at their flat, wasn't it? "Daddy and I, we aren't going to leave you behind anywhere."

Thomas nodded. "Be good so you won't leave me." He sniffled, practically on the verge of tears now. "Be good," he repeated quietly. He dropped his gaze again. He got got out of his chair and ran over to John, clinging to his dad's leg in a hug tightly and then climbed into the lap. He clung to John's shirt, burying his face in his dad's neck.

John wrapped his arms tightly around Thomas, closing his eyes for a moment. "We are never going to leave you. You are going to be in our family forever, kiddo." He patted the boy's back soothingly. The idea that Thomas thought they would leave him twisted his gut and he wanted to protect the boy for the rest of his life. "I love you, Thomas."

Thomas nodded, still hugging John. "Love my daddies too!" Better. Not going to be left or made to leave. "We go back and see Daddy?" He clambered off of John, grabbed his dad's hand and began tugging John out of the cafe in his new found excitement.

Well, at least he had cheered Thomas up. John smiled and followed Thomas out of the café, giving his arm a gentle tug in the correct direction of Sherlock's room. "Remember that Daddy is sore, all right? So you can't climb all over him." He squeezed the boy's hand as they entered the room. The moment he was his husband he smiled warmly, lop-sided as a small blush spread across his cheeks. "Take care of any problems while we were gone?" His eyes searched the blanket for any sort of bulge.

Thomas followed after John, climbed up on the bed to curl at his daddy's feet once more.

Sherlock looked up at John with a smirk. 'I would have liked help but my usual helping hand was busy, so I had to take care of it myself.' He didn't wank off often, in fact the only times he had done it before was when he had talked and texted John while at war. 'Made bit of a mess though. Going to need a new gown and sheets probably.'

John stood on his toes for a moment to study the obvious wet spot on the blanket. He laughed and nodded a bit, moving to the small closet beside the bathroom. New sheets and gown. He could do that. "Thomas, mate, go wash up. The food was messy." He moved to the bed holding the fresh linens and smiled down at their son. "Need to help Daddy change. Up you go, wash up in the bathroom."

Thomas sighed but got off the bed. He walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock smirked at John. 'Looks like Thomas is listening better.' He removed the sheet from on top of him but he would need his husband's help to get the gown off. 'Thought about you.' The smirk grew a bit. That was normal, right? Okay?

John blushed a bit, pulling the blanket fully off the bed before moving to the side to slowly pull Sherlock's gown off. He didn't bother asking his husband to move, ripping the side of it before sliding it off of Sherlock's body. "How good was I?" He whispered as he moved to the sink, wetting down a few paper towels before moving back to his husband's body and cleaning up the mess left behind on his husband's stomach and penis. "Looks like I was," he added with the best smirk he could manage.

The smirk got bigger. 'You were amazing of course.' Sherlock moved a bit so John could help him get the new hospital gown on, once he had been cleaned up. He wanted to grab his husband by the shirt and kiss John's lips but he still had the damn tube down his throat. He couldn't wait for it to be removed so he could snog the hell out of his husband.

"I know. I always am." John smirked, holding the new gown in his hand before leaning down and running his tongue across his husband's lower stomach, licking up the rest of Sherlock's mess with a small moan. Was it rude and teasing to do this? Hell, he didn't care. It was hot, erotic, and he couldn't help himself.

Oh God. If Sherlock hadn't just gotten off a few moments ago he was certain he would be getting hard right now. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. He arched up a bit into John's tongue, fingers digging into the mattress below him a bit.

Thomas came out of the bathroom and paused with wide eyes. Why did grownups do such strange things?

Was that a door opening? John turned his head slightly and swiftly lifted his head. Right. Thomas. He swallowed everything and quickly covered Sherlock with the gown and the new blanket. He lifted his hands with a mischievous smile. 'Still taste good.' He turned slowly to Thomas with a blush. Just another thing he would have questions about. "All washed up then?"

Sherlock had been so lost in the moment that when it stopped he was confused at first. He opened his eyes to see what was going on. Oh right. The boy. He smirked at John.

Thomas nodded. "Yeah. Is that what you was doin'? Washin' up Daddy? But with your tongue?" He furrowed his brows at the thought, trying to understand what he had just watched.

"I.. um... No..." John cleared his throat and blushed furiously, the red spreading to the tips of his ears. "Just...nothing. Something adults do, yeah?" He turned in time to catch his husband's smirk and narrowed his eyes playfully. "Oi, no," he whispered with a small laugh despite the deep red of his face. How embarrassing. He had been expecting having to deal with Amy in a few years but now they had Thomas and sometimes he forgot that a little boy of five years probably had a lot of questions.

If the tube hadn't been stuck down his throat, Sherlock would have been laughing. The smirk stayed plastered to his face, showing his obvious amusement about this whole situation. They would have to be more careful in the future otherwise there would be a lot of questions that he was certain neither were ready to answer.

Thomas was so lost and confused but he nodded slowly anyway. Grownups were so weird. He climbed back up on the bed, curling at Sherlock's feet once more.

John walked around the bed, tossing the dirty linens into the necessary bin before glancing back at the bed. That had left him with more than an obvious erection straining against the pair of sweatpants the hospital had given him. He turned so his husband could see, hands on his hips with an annoyed huff. His hands lifted with a purpose. 'Thanks. Hard. What do I do?' He slapped his hand against his sides in aggravation.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, the smirk still in place. This was getting more humorous by the moment. Although, John seemed less than amused with the current situation. The smirk gradually disappeared. Was his husband upset with him? He hadn't even done anything. He gave a small shrug. 'Use the bathroom?'

John smiled a bit, clearly more amused by the entire situation than anything. 'Love you.' A pause as he tried to think of how to move his hands. 'Not angry.' He nodded a bit and then moved to his husband, running a hand sloppily through Sherlock's hair before placing a kiss on his temple. "Going to go wash up," he said softly before moving into the bathroom and making a point to lock the door.

Oh good. Sherlock thought for a moment another stupid fight would erupt. He relaxed into the bed, closing his eyes. He had worn himself out by getting himself off. He was about to drift off to sleep but Thomas speaking, snapped him back awake.

"He still don't like me," Thomas muttered. John had gotten awful red and that meant he was angry right? He sighed, crawling up a bit so he could lay on Sherlock's legs. He nuzzled his head into his daddy's knee.

John had tried to hide the moan as he came but he knew it echoed into the main room. It took him a bit to clean up and he slowly opened the door, his face flushed as he glanced at Sherlock and Thomas. Deep breaths. No need to worry. It was all right if Sherlock knew and Thomas probably hadn't been paying attention. "Sleepy, mate?" He crouched a bit to smile warmly at their son, gently running a hand through the boy's hair.

Sherlock looked down at Thomas but there wasn't a lot he could do since he wasn't able to talk right now. He glanced up at John when he returned to the room, a faint smirk on his face. 'Thomas thinks you still hate him. Not sure why.' He didn't know about the boy, but he was tired. He would stay awake though. He wanted to spend more time cuddled against his husband.

Thomas looked up John. So, Dad didn't hate him? Why were adults so confusing? He shook his head. He wasn't tired, just pouting.

John watched his husband's hands before looking down at their son. "Thomas, I don't hate you," he whispered as he shook his head. "Why would you ever think that? I'm your Dad now. Dad's don't ever hate their sons." God, he just wanted the boy to feel comfortable with him. He wanted the transition to be better. 'Will get up soon. Help him, then snuggle.' He smiled briefly at his husband before turning his attention back to Thomas.

Sherlock gave a slight nod, his eyes closing again. Maybe just a small nap. He let his eyes close, his body relaxing even further into the mattress.

Thomas looked up accusingly at Sherlock. "You told on me?" He sniffled as he looked back to John and shrugged. "You was all red in the face…thought you was mad at me…" He shrugged again, looking away.

Oh. So when John had blushed Thomas had thought... "I was blushing. Have you ever done that? When you get embarrassed? It happens to me sometimes and I get a little red. I wasn't mad at you at all." He gently moved the boy's head so he could meet his gaze. "I'm not mad at you, Thomas. You are fine." He moved and placed a soothing kiss on the boy's forehead. "Promise. You are just fine." He nodded before moving to climb into the bed as gently as possible, moving his husband's head on to his shoulder.

Even though he was sleeping now, Sherlock snuggled into John's body automatically. He mumbled something into the tube, his hand blindly searching around until he found his husband's hand. He fell still after that, as he drifted off into a deeper slumber.

Oh. Thomas gave a slight nod and even managed a small smile. He stretched out, so his head was still on Sherlock's knee but now his legs were draped over John's.

Sleep. God, that sounded amazing. After the stress of everything John figured he wouldn't mind taking a nap, either. He closed his eyes, squeezed Sherlock's hand, and slowly fell asleep.

It wasn't long before the sun was up and Mycroft was slowly entering the room, holding Amy in his arms. Bigger, lifting her head up curiously, and letting out a squeak at the sight of her Daddy. John groaned, turning his head into Sherlock's unruly curls. Too early for any sort of noise. He easily fell back asleep as Mycroft smirked and glanced at his younger brother. It hadn't taken long to figure out what had actually happened and he wasn't sure if he would let Sherlock know that he had found out.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note:

Some drama this chapter and rest assured there will be even more in later chapters. Also, this story will only be twenty-two chapters long. We just started working on a new story. I'll have more information on the next story in an ending note in the last chapter like usual.

* * *

Noise. Sherlock slowly came out of his sleep, eyes blinking open and taking a moment to focus. John was still sleeping and so was the boy apparently. Wait when had Mycroft gotten here? His older brother was holding little Sandi, that made him smile. He would have shifted to get a better view of them but he didn't want to risk waking up his husband.

Mycroft moved to Sherlock's side of the bed. "I know," he whispered softly, holding a finger out for Amy to grasp and wiggle, occasionally putting it in her mouth. "Everything. We found Kelly Ryder, the woman who was on the island with you, and she told me." That's when his gaze narrowed and shot to John, still blissfully unaware of their company and snoring softly into Sherlock's hair. "She said he just tackled you. I could have him arrested for nearly killing you, Sherlock." Amy squeaked and John stirred slightly, grumbling before going still.

Sherlock snarled into the tube, his eyes narrowing at Mycroft. His older brother wouldn't dare, would he? If his sibling did that he would never forgive him or speak to him again. His free hand curled into a fist and he shook his head from side to side. Mycroft didn't have the whole story and he was half tempted to yank out the damn tube himself and begin yelling at his brother.

Mycroft was about to open his mouth but John finally opened his eyes, blearily focusing on the top of Sherlock's head before it dawned on him. That was his daughter. He grinned lazily and Mycroft slowly handed Amy over, squeaking and gurgling as she put her hand's on her daddy's face. "Morning, Baby Girl," he whispered softly as she patted his cheek with a smile and a laugh. "Oh, yes, I know," he added.

It took a few moments before Mycroft returned his gaze to his younger brother. 'Talk later.' He signed, his hands moving harshly. 'Considering arresting him. You don't deserve that.' He moved across the room and left for a moment, the door still open a bit.

Sherlock glared at Mycroft the entire time until his brother left. He moved his attention to John and little Sandi. 'John, will you take the kids out for a bit? I need to talk to my brother.' A brief pause. 'He knows already and I would like some time alone with him. Please.' He kept his gaze on his husband, but his thoughts were distracted. He would fucking kill Mycroft before he would let John go to jail.

John had started to nod before Sherlock's second statement. No. What? No, he couldn't. Amy made a noise and he slowly nodded, holding his daughter closer and gently waking Thomas up. "C'mon mate, let's go get you some apple juice." He stood, grabbing the baby bag Mycroft had left. "Amy, you wonderful girl," he whispered into her hair. It was longer and getting a bit of a lighter blonde. As he slipped out the door, looking behind him to make sure Thomas was following, Mycroft came in and didn't even glance at John. He kept his eyes on Sherlock and crossed his arms over his chest.

For a long moment Sherlock just stared at Mycroft. Try to be calm. Explain it. His older brother was much better reading sign than his husband, so he moved his hands in quick, sure movements. 'I was losing John. I think he had been starting to get cabin fever. I was able to bring him back the first couple times and I was desperate to help him on this occasion. I called him a coward knowing it would result in a physical attack. I didn't fight it or resist when he tackled me, even though I knew it was coming. It was bad luck I punctured my lung. His shoulder caught my chest just right, cracking a rib. I landed hard and I think that jolt of landing made the broken rib, tear my lung. Without proper medical care it collapsed. He suffered enough on that island, slowly watching me die. Please, don't make him suffer anymore. I will never forgive or speak to you again, if you do.'

Mycroft glanced toward the door. Closed completely. Did he tell Sherlock it didn't matter? John had abused him, nearly killed him. If Sherlock had died he was fairly sure he would have killed John himself. "How is it any different than now? We hardly speak as it is. I almost lost you, Sherlock! And how would Mum have handled that? John would have gone jail if we hadn't arrived when we did!" God, he should stop yelling. It wasn't doing them any good but he was beyond upset. "I won't arrest him but...I am very upset with him for doing this to you. It just...it should have never happened." A small cry came from the hall and John passed in front of the window, glancing in nervously as he rocked Amy and tired to soothe her.

Sherlock had tried to stay calm but unbridled rage and loathing overtook him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His hands moved in a flourish of swift movements. 'You self righteous bastard! What makes you think you have a right to care so much? Where was the older brother I needed when Dad beat the shit out of me? How many times when it first started did I beg for your help? To make it stop? The only time you seemed to give a damn was when I almost died from a drug overdose. You have no right to stand there and judge John!' The animated hands stopped, despite wanting to say more. Even with the tube down his throat to regulate breathing, he was beginning to hyperventilate. That wasn't normal, was it? Shit. The pang in his chest returned, agonizingly all too familiar. The heart monitor would have been going off...except he had unplugged to relieve himself earlier. A clear expression of panic was on his face as he found the call button and pressed it furiously. His hand went still after a few moments, along with the rest of his body as his eyes slid close. The fight had stressed Sherlock out and tore open the stitches that had been used to repair his lung.

Mycroft tensed before he was shoved to the side by several nurses who rushed into the room, quickly moving the bed past the tall man. Shit. He had just wanted to talk and it had turned into...into a conversation that they had always managed to avoid. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice that John had come into the room. "You're lucky," he told the smaller man, glancing at Amy for a moment.

"You nearly killed him again. That's another surgery. You think he's strong enough?" John tensed and looked around the room. His husband was in surgery again and now he was standing here, weak and powerless over Sherlock's future. "Bugger off, Mycroft. If you are just here to make things worse then you don't need to be here."

"We wouldn't be here in the first place, _Captain Watson_, if you weren't such a damn coward. Tackling your own husband to prove yourself? That's weak. Shallow. You are lucky Sherlock won't press charges." Mycroft brushed by John roughly as the man fell back into his chair and held Amy close.

Thomas watched the two grownups, gnawing on his bottom lip. "Hey! You dun have no right to treat my Dad like that!" He ran after the man who had a silly name like Daddy. His little hands were in fists and his chest was heaving from breathing hard. He couldn't keep up, even with running, so he returned to John's side.

The second surgery took much longer than the first one. A doctor came out to talk to John. Despite his thick Spanish accent, he spoke English very well. "Sir, your husband is very weak. He is no longer allowed to receive visitors until I think it is okay. I have had him moved to an isolated room where he can concentrate on getting better." Before any arguments could be made, the doctor walked away.

John wanted to open his mouth, to argue and demand to see his husband, but the doctor had already left. He slumped further into his chair and reached his free hand out, ruffling Thomas's hair and holding Amy a little closer to his chest. "It's fine, Thomas. Adults fight sometimes," he whispered shakily. God, this was...still all his fault. He probably killed his husband. "It's...fine."

Thomas nodded. He couldn't climb up into John's lap, so he clung to his dad's leg instead. "Daddy okay?" He went back to biting his lip. "When we go London?"

When Sherlock woke up, he was alone. Why wasn't John there? Had Mycroft had his husband arrested anyway? What about the kids? His daughter, the boy…his new son. Maybe he had just been too much trouble and had gone back to London without him. He sighed internally, his eyes closing as sleep found him once more.

"Yeah. Yeah, Daddy is all right," John whispered softly, keeping his head on top of the boy's head. Sherlock was waking up alone, scared. It twisted his gut. When was he going to be able to see Sherlock? "We will go to London soon. Promise." He closed his eyes, letting Amy gum at his shirt and make occasional noises.

After a day and a half, the doctor came to see John again. "I am afraid your husband is doing worse. I think he may be depressed. The tube down his throat has been removed but he refuses to talk to anyway. He sleeps a lot, and while we encourage rest too much can be problem. I will allow visitors again, but you can't say anything that might upset him. He is in a fragile state right now and not just physically."

John had spent the day and a half caring for Amy and Thomas, keeping the latter as distracted as possible. Amy seemed happy to just be with him, sleeping against his chest and smiling at him every time she woke up. He loved it. It wasn't until the doctor returned, telling him that Sherlock wasn't doing very well, that he finally remembered everything. Plane crash. Island. Sherlock dying. He stood slowly and, despite his hatred, handed Amy off to Mycroft. "Thomas, mate, I'll be right back. Going to go check on Daddy, all right?" He smiled a bit, ruffled the boy's hair, and made his way toward Sherlock's new room. It was small and the constant beep of the heart monitor assured him that his husband was still alive. Just...not doing well. He slowly entered the room and looked at his husband. What could possibly be making him depressed? "Sherlock?" He moved to the chair crammed next to his husband's bed, frowning a bit.

Sherlock turned when he heard his husband. "John?" His voice was raw, rough and deeper than usual from not being used in a couple days. "Your still here?" A cough. "Thought you left," he muttered the last part. "Where have you been?" Another cough. "Why didn't you come see me sooner?" His voice cracked at the last question. Stupid emotions. He turned away from his husband again.

Oh, nobody had told Sherlock. John smiled a bit and reached out to take his husband's hand. "You were really weak," he whispered, reaching his free hand up to run gently through Sherlock's hair. "You are in an isolation room, dear, and I couldn't see you. The medical staff wouldn't let me." It hurt to see his husband like this and he was determined to stay strong for the man. "But they said you weren't doing well. Want to tell me what's wrong?"

Oh. That explained a lot he supposed. "Thought you left me..." Sherlock shrugged. "Guess I should have known better." He coughed a bit. "You'll stay with me? Please? Don't leave me." God, when had he become so needy? He reached out to take John's hand giving it a weak squeeze. He couldn't do this without his husband and without John he had lost the will to do so.

Why would Sherlock think John left him? Maybe he was just exhausted. It wouldn't do any good to ask and upset his husband. "I'll stay here. Of course. I am not going to leave." He smiled warmly and stood up for a moment, hesitating before be bent at the waist and gave Sherlock a quick, soft kiss. "Right here. I won't ever leave."

"Lay with me?" Sherlock wasn't sure why but he still needed more reassurance. Being in John's arms made everything better. Without his husband there to comfort him, he had been having nightmares. Frequently. He didn't want to worry John, so he kept it to himself. His husband was here now and that was all that mattered.

That was something John could do. He stood slowly, releasing Sherlock's hand and moving into the small hospital bed. "I love you," he whispered into his husband's hair, holding Sherlock the best he could. "I will never leave you. Never. I will always be there for you." He moved his partner's head against his shoulder and sighed. "I love you," he repeated as he placed a kiss against Sherlock's temple.

Sherlock relaxed into John immediately. It was the first time he had felt at ease since waking up from surgery a second time. At one time being alone like that wouldn't have bothered him, but it had. It had scared him. The nightmares didn't do anything to help ease his troubled mind either. "I love you too." He turned his head so it would nestle against John's chest.

Being alone must have really done something to Sherlock. It made John frown a bit and he pulled his husband a bit closer. He was scared, knew Sherlock could feel the increase in his heart beat...but he was afraid to ask his husband anything. What if it upset his partner more? "And so Pirate Sherlock landed on a strange, new shore for Pirate John. He said it was where he was from and then a wonderful woman came toward them from a fantastic house. She smiled and accepted Pirate John as part of her family and they walked into the house, hand in hand, as Pirate Sherlock's Mum made them a nice, warm meal."

Sherlock managed a small smile at the story. Good. He needed that. Needed the normalcy back. He just needed stay strong. John always said he was so strong but now he felt weak and defeated. Left alone in his own thoughts had almost driven him mad. As usual, his husband showed up in time to save him. Wasn't his partner tired of saving him all the time? John had done it so many times before.

There. A smile. John relaxed marginally and lowered his head, gently meeting his husband's lips again. He needed it, didn't care if it was selfish. With the tube in Sherlock's mouth he had been forced to control himself but now he could do quick little kisses. Maybe it would help Sherlock, too. "My husband. My anchor," he whispered as he pressed his forehead against the top of his husband's head.

Kissing. Yes. Very good. He leaned his head up to kiss John again. It was sloppy, aggressive and desperate. "Mine. Need you," he whispered into his husband's lips. He had unplugged the heart monitor again, but this time because he didn't want that damn thing beeping in his ear when he woke up from a stupid nightmare. At least this way they wouldn't be interrupted. "Fuck me. Please? God I need you right now."

Wait...what? John pulled away from the kiss slowly and met Sherlock's gaze. Had he heard Sherlock right? The man had literally just had two surgeries to fix a hole in his lung and now he wanted to shag? If he said no then Sherlock could get all depressed again. This...wasn't good. "Too weak, I can't. Want you to heal, love." He frowned because this was just going to upset his partner, which was the last thing he needed after the island. "Love you."

There was a part of Sherlock that wanted to be selfish and a child. That didn't care if it killed him, but he knew John was right. He sighed and nodded. "Hold me then?" He asked feebly. He snuggled into John without waiting for a reply. "I'm sorry. I am just...I really need you right now..." God, he was acting stupid about this whole thing. Damn these emotions.

"Yes. Yes, of course," John whispered as he pulled Sherlock closed. "I am here for you. That's what husbands are for." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's forehead and grinned. Close. Contact. Despite their surroundings he was rather happy. Sherlock was alive and resting against him. "I want to stay with you for the rest of my life, have you curled against my side with your head over my heart."

Sherlock nodded a bit. He didn't trust himself to speak right now. He was worried that if he did, he would talk about the nightmares. Did he dare try to sleep? With John holding him he should be fine, right? "Going to try and sleep a bit." He snuggled deeper into his husband, his head nestled into John's neck and shoulder. "Love you," he murmured before falling asleep.

Was it good for him to still be sleeping? John remembered the doctor had said something about it being good to a point. But the man was exhausted, it would be rude to wake him up. "Sleep well, Sherlock," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on his husband's forehead. After a few hours he gently shook Sherlock. "Wake up." It was something he was afraid of now, the fact that at his husband might not wake up.

Sherlock groaned and woke up slowly. He was still feeling exhausted but at least he hadn't been startled awake by a nightmare. "Still tired," he grumbled but he opened his eyes anyway. "Haven't been sleeping lately," he admitted quietly. He shifted slightly, so he could get more comfortable against John. "How long did I sleep?"

"Almost four hours," John replied softly, looking down at his husband for a moment. "We wanted to wait a bit but I know two very happy children who would be a tad happier if they got to see Papa," he whispered as he rubbed his hand up and down Sherlock's back in an attempt to soothe him. It was clear he was relaxed...relieved? Nightmares, certainly? If anybody could read body language after sleeping, it was John.

Only four hours? Why had John woke him up? Usually four hours was more than sufficient for Sherlock, but after lack of sleep while trying to recover from two major surgeries he was feeling drained. "Not right now. Maybe in a day or two." He wasn't ready to deal with anyone but his husband right now. "Please, just want to spend time with you right now." Was it wrong of him? Selfish? He _needed_ John right now. He didn't want anyone else to see him like this. Scared. Pathetic. Weak.

"That's fine. I understand." John nodded a bit and glanced around the room. After living around Sherlock so much he had figured out how to try and observe things the best he could manage. The heart monitor had been unplugged and it wasn't because Sherlock wanted to shag. He was relieved when he woke up. That was the only explanation for what he was thinking. "What are the nightmares about?" He finally forced himself ask.

Right. Of course John would figure it out. It shouldn't surprise Sherlock really; his husband wasn't a stupid man. He was quiet for several minutes. "Similar to the one back at the beach house. Instead of abandoning me out in open water, you leave me on the island to die. When I push you away, you don't come back. No one is there. I die scared, desperate and alone. It's stupid. I know you wouldn't but anytime I tried to sleep the dream would come back and every time I woke up and you weren't there…I just…" He trailed with a small shrug. He wasn't going to cry damn it. Not over something as stupid as a dream, but God just thinking about them had left him feeling broken inside.

Well, John had been quite the jerk on the island...and that was putting it mildly. He looked down at Sherlock for a long moment. "I'm sorry," his voice shook and broke. He wasn't going to stay as strong as he would have liked. "I left you because...I don't know. I was upset and then...I watched you almost die and that fear in your eyes. It was still there when I ran back. It broke my heart. I have never seen you scared and there you were, alone and dying and...so scared," he hesitated because _he'd_ put it there. He had put that fear in his husband. "I am never going to be able to take away what I did but I can apologize for it, make it up to you, and promise that it will never happen again."

Sherlock was quiet a long time again. "I didn't think it would ever matter to me that I would die alone, because I always thought I would. But then I met you and now the thought terrifies me." He felt stupid for it, everyone died sometime. They were communicating and talking, so that was good right? Then why did he feel so miserable inside? "I don't want to die alone," the words were barely audible. He turned his head so he could bury it into John's chest.

"You aren't going to die alone," John muttered as he close his eyes and pressed his face into his husband's hair. "I am always going to be with you, Sherlock. We are married. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life." He managed a bit of a smile at that, pulling back and moving a finger under Sherlock's chin to lift his face up. "The rest of my life," he whispered as he gave his husband a slow, languid kiss. "Don't you ever worry about dying alone."

Sherlock returned the kiss, arms moving to wrap around John as he rolled on top of his husband. He ignored the pull of the wires and tubes attached to his body. No shagging, but he could at least snog the hell out of John, right? Because he needed that right now. He pressed into the man below him a bit, just so there bodies could be closer and not really in attempt at seduction. "I love you," he uttered against his husband's lips before he resumed kissing them.

Now was a moment for complete control. John met Sherlock's lips with each movement, holding his husband close. This was comfort, especially for them. Intimate contact was always so much more for them. His lips curled in a bit of a smile before his tongue darted into his husband's mouth, running across the roof. He hummed, sucking at Sherlock's tongue before inhaling through his nose.

Hugging and kissing John always made things better. Sherlock moved a hand up to run through his husband's hair. It had seemed like months had passed since his fingers last ran through those soft bristles. His other hand moved to his face, his fingers tracing along the cheek lightly. He continued the kiss, breathing through his nose now because there was no way he was going to break it right now.

Even now Sherlock's lung capacity was absolutely amazing. John pulled away slowly, panting for breath and quickly turning his head a bit to the side. He kissed his husband's palm, inhaling the scent of Sherlock's skin before glancing at him. "Love you, too. So much," he muttered before opening his mouth and gently sucking on his husband's neck. Spoiling. Distracting. He just wanted to make the man happy, maybe help him forgot where they were for a moment.

For a moment Sherlock had been able to forget he was in the hospital because of a twice repaired, collapsed lung but when he finally took time to breathe after the kiss was over he coughed for a few moments. It didn't matter to him though and he moved his mouth to begin placing light kisses up and down John's neck and jaw. The hand on his face slipped down and under his husband's shirt, where his fingertips ran along John's chest lightly. He continued to caress the locks on his husband's head. Yes. This was perfect and exactly what he had needed.

Just Sherlock's touch made him relax and want more all at the same time. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and let out a shaky sigh, one hand moving curl into the back of his husband's hospital gown. While this probably wasn't what the doctor planned on when he'd asked for John to help cheer Sherlock up, he figured it was working. Sherlock was very distracted. But that cough...it was in the back of his mind. "You a-all right?"


	15. Chapter 15

Author's Note:

Super cute ending to this chapter. Thanks so much to all the reviewers out there!

* * *

After a couple of coughs and Sherlock nodded. "I'm fine." Much to his regret he added, "we should probably stop though. Sooner I get better the sooner we get to shag." He smirked down at John, shifting down a bit so he could rest his head on his husband's chest. The hand on under the shirt came to stop on John's stomach but the hand in the hair continued to run through the tresses. He turned his head slightly, giving his husband a kiss on the chest even though there was fabric in the way. "I love you."

The feeling of Sherlock's weight on top of him was wonderful and he sank in the mattress, looking down at his husband with a warm, lop-sided smile. "I love you, too," he whispered, his hand moving to run through Sherlock's hair slowly. His chest moved in shallow, slow breaths. Relaxed. Wonderful. Who knew he would feel like this in a hospital? Especially in this current situation? "I want you to know that...that you are my life." His head fell back and he studied the ceiling intently. "When I wake up every morning and I can just feel your warmth next to me under the same blanket, I smile. I don't know what I would do without you."

Sherlock smiled into John's chest. He was okay now, of that he was fairly certain. "I should be fine now Love. Thank you. You were exactly what I needed. The children can come in later if they want, but right now I am nestled in against my husband so they will just have to wait a bit." He lifted his up a bit so he could smirk at John.

"Mmm, I agree. Some alone time sounds wonderful," John replied as be pushed some hair off of Sherlock's forehead. All he could do was stare, smile, and pull his husband a little closer. Did they keep talking? They had so much to discuss but Sherlock was in a good mood and he didn't want to ruin it. "Amy smiles a lot now and can sit up, lift her head."

"That's good." Sherlock rested his head back against John's chest. "The boy, our son," he was still trying to get used to the idea, "how is holding up?" He continued to play with his husband's hair, his eyes closing in contentment. This was nice, considering they were in a damn hospital.

"Thomas is...he is doing the best he can. Big changes," John whispered as he lifted one leg and wrapped it around Sherlock's legs. God, it was so nice to be this close to his husband. At that point he finally realized he was madly in love. His breath hitched and he glanced down at Sherlock. "I am madly in love you," he whispered. It was...different and he was grinning like an idiot.

Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced back up at John with a smirk. "Well, that is good to know. It would be horribly inconvenient if you were madly in love with someone else." The smirk diminished. "I would be lost without you Love." He lifted his head up further to give his husband a quick kiss on the lips.

John returned the kiss and let his head fall back. Happy. No time to bring up Mycroft or any of the trouble the man was threatening. He needed to keep Sherlock's spirits up. "Right. Bit not good if that was the case," he laughed and wiggled his hips a bit to get his leg comfortable to pull his husband closer. "And when we get home I am going to spoil you. Going to shag you into our mattress."

The smirk returned as he buried his head back into John's chest. "That would be good. I would like that." He was quiet a few thoughtful moments. "After I visit with the children, I should probably talk Mycroft. Things…were unpleasant the last time I spoke to him. He…wants to take you away from me. I can't let him do that John." Shit. He'd just ruined the mood, hadn't he?

Oh. Well, John figured he should have expected it. Should he ask what happened or be more worried that his brother-in-law wanted to throw him in jail? It made his gut twist. Was he actually going to be taken away from his family? "I am afraid you aren't going to be able to convince him to let me stay," he muttered as the lightheartedness left his eyes. "He can do whatever he wants and...he is so upset that I hurt you."

Sherlock took a deep breath, but was quite for several minutes. Might was well just get this over with. "Right. I should talk to him. Send him in? I'm sure everything will turn out fine." It had to. He lifted his head and managed to give John a small smile and then kissed his husband on the lips gently. "I love you."

This seemed to be getting worse by the minute. John returned the smile tightly and cleared his throat. Okay. Calm. He could do this. It would be fine. "Right then. You will have to get up, dear, or I'm afraid your brother might punch me." He grinned and gave his husband a quick kiss in an attempt to calm himself down. His heart was beating fast and he was breathing harder than normal.

Sherlock managed a slight smirk and he shifted so he has laying on the bed again. He already missed the comfort John's body offered. "Everything will be fine Love." He leaned over and gave his husband a kiss on the cheek. "Mycroft is just upset and angry. You know how we Holmes get when we are being stubborn idiots."

John slid off the bed with a small smile and glanced at the door. "Yeah. 'S fine. I'll... Amy and Thomas." He nodded and moved toward the door. Mycroft slammed shoulders with him as he entered, shutting the door roughly.

The man didn't say anything, just studied his younger brother for a moment. "Why aren't you pressing charges?" Mycroft's voice was low, confused. John had nearly killed Sherlock, apparently did for a moment.

Calm. Stay calm. Don't go into a childish fit of rage. Sherlock didn't answer his older brother for several long moments. "You don't know what it was like on that island. What happened. John is the man I _love._ He is my husband and no matter what, I'll stand by him. Good, bad, everything in between. Please, as a favor to me? Let it go Mycroft? I can't live without him…I _can't_…" He trailed off as his voice broke.

Mycroft lifted his gaze and sighed. "Even in a horrid condition like that island...he should care. Never in his life should he have injured you. That man is supposed to protect you." He swallowed hard and took a small step forward. "I won't press charges because I don't want to take him away from you but I am not going to forgive him."

Sherlock bit his lip hard. He didn't understand how his brother could hold a grudge against John and not their father. Just thinking about it made him seethe and he could no longer hold his tongue. "Protect me? Yeah, because my own family did a such a _great_ job when I was a child. Hypocrite." He turned away from Mycroft, feeling even more bitter and upset than before.

Should they continue the conversation that had nearly killed Sherlock again? Mycroft bit his bottom lip. "That's in the past and you know it. I can't change that I was a prat back then when Dad...when he did that. I can't take that back but I can do my best now to protect you." He kept his gaze locked intently on his younger brother's back. "I want to try and fix as many things as I can, all right? And I want to be part of your life, and Amy's. I want you involved in Siger's...can we just...Sherlock, please?"

Sherlock didn't turn around at first, but he finally turned around to face his brother. "John paid his penance and then some already. I have no problem with being apart of your life as long as there is room for John in it too. You _will_ _not_ be rude to my husband. Know this, I will pick John _every_ time."

If it meant keeping Sherlock in his life then Mycroft didn't have a choice, did he? "Fine. I can...fine." He nodded a bit and took a deep breath, clearing his throat. There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice soft. "How are you? I didn't mean to..." Nearly kill you again? What was he supposed to say? It was a bit tough being a good big brother when he was, apparently, being an idiot.

Sherlock shrugged. "I am fine, better than I was at least." No need to mention he had almost fallen apart after waking up from the second surgery. "We are all a bit stressed." Just move on. It was over. "How are the wedding plans coming? Mum making a big fuss again?" A small smirk twitched across his lips.

Wedding plans. Mycroft laughed a bit and shrugged. "Of course she is. It's Mum, I wouldn't expect any less." He moved to sit in the chair beside his brother's bed and steepled his hands under his chin. "Gregory is a tad nervous but...so am I, I guess. To be expected, really. And we have started the adoption process." He grinned a bit and looked even more giddy than a young school boy.

The smirk got a bit bigger. "Good. Things better between you two? The makeup sex works, eh?" Sherlock only smirked even more, his eyebrows raising a bit. "Nervous is normal, I suspect. John and I both were. Adopting an infant or a child a little older?"

Right. Were they really going to discuss this? They were brothers...it was natural. Mycroft laughed, paused, and then nodded. "Yes, very much so. Gregory is...all for make up sex." He blushed. There. It wasn't too hard to admit Sherlock was right and it was even easier to admit that their relationship was slowly getting better. "We are looking into an infant, raising him from birth or as close to it." After a long moment he looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "And watching him with Amy has been...amazing. Gregory is going to be an amazing father."

Sherlock smirked once more. "See, I know a thing or two about relationships. Who would have thought?" Well, they seemed all right now. That was good he supposed. "Good. I am sure you will both make good fathers. We are going to adopt Thomas. He is already a handful, but I think he just needs some guidance."

"I'm aware," Mycroft replied with a slow nod. "He has informed me that Dad and Daddy also did some odd things. Like cleaning each other...with their tongues." He smirked a bit at his younger brother. The little boy clearly hadn't known what was going on when he had explained that to his new Uncle. "And, oh goodness, apparently they kiss so different than normal adults. 'On top of each other and stuff,' in his words."

That made Sherlock laugh loudly but he ended up coughing afterward. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his chest. It wasn't nearly as bad before when on the island, but it was still troublesome. He took a moment to catch his breath before reopening his eyes. "He is very curious that one and need of immediate schooling. His speech is terrible. It takes a lot of effort on my part not to correct him."

"I can get him into a wonderful school. It shouldn't be a problem. Then he would learn what his daddies were doing when they were...wrestling? And make such odd noises." Mycroft raised a brow and laughed himself despite the content of their conversation. Wasn't this what brothers normally did? "Would you want them both in a private school?"

Sherlock smirked, not daring to laugh this time. It took too much effort and caused an unnecessary amount of pain. "I don't know. We have never really talked about it. I would rather just teach them at home but John wants things to be as normal for little Sandi as possible. I suppose he wants the same for Thomas."

"It would probably be best for them, Sherlock," Mycroft replied with a smile. "We both know that. Growing up like that will be better for them. Friends, sleepovers." He shrugged and glanced at the window as Thomas's head poked into view and John walked past with Amy squealing in his arms.

Sherlock nodded, matching his brother's shrug. "I'm surprised Thomas hasn't run in here yet. He isn't very good at being patient. Not that I blame him." He gave Mycroft a slight smirk. He thought about taking another nap, but maybe he could take one after the kids visited a bit. He was tired still pretty tired and weak.

"We haven't found any information on his Mum," Mycroft said as he watched the boy disappear after John. It didn't take long to hear the tell-tale signs of Amy giggling. "She has grown up a bit since you left. She looks more like John everyday and has some of your mannerisms. She opens her eyes and just...stares at people. It's like you with John's eyes." He slowly turned his gaze back to his younger brother.

"That doesn't surprise me. She probably wasn't even flying under her real name. Anything about the boy?" Sherlock had shifted a bit, so he could see Mycroft better, eyebrows raising. "My mannerism? Already? The poor child." He gave a sideways smirk.

"Officially? He is five. Birthday is in December. The seventeenth, to be exact." Mycroft shrugged a bit and pulled out his mobile. "Father unknown and...and no listed mother. It's...odd," he muttered, clearly annoyed by his lack information. "Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald just... exists."

"She probably obtained him illegally. Had some documents fabricated. She genuinely cared about him. She was trying to protect him, constantly. Kept him isolated when home. Took him on business trips with her. She was cold and ruthless to everyone but this one boy. Kept everyone at arms length. The question is what or who was she protecting him from? It's really the only thing I haven't figured out." Sherlock shrugged a bit. "I still need to tell John. At some point could you entertain the children so I could talk to him?" Would his husband still want to adopt Thomas?

"Not a problem." Mycroft stood slowly as the door opened, John holding the door open for Thomas before he entered completely. He was tense as Mycroft passed him and left. Amy gurgled and kicked her feet, curling her hands into John's shirt.

"Ouch, Baby Girl." John looked down at her with a laugh and moved toward the bed. "Look, Papa!" But she shoved a bit of fabric into her mouth instead, turning her head the best she could manage to study Sherlock much like he looked at a crime scene.

Sherlock smiled. "Look at you Baby Girl. Were you good for Uncle Mycroft and Uncle _Gregory_." He smirked a bit. It was still funny to him to think of Lestrade as that.

Thomas climbed up on the bed, sitting near Sherlock's feet. "Daddy okay now?"

"Yes, I am fine." Sherlock looked down to Thomas. He was tired and too much stress on his chest was painful, but other than that he really was all right. He looked to John, the smile still on his lips. "Mycroft is still upset, I think but it should pass. Give it time Love, and I am sure everything will be fine."

Everything would be fine. John smiled a bit and looked down at Amy with chuckle. She let her Dad's shirt fall from her mouth and reached toward Sherlock curiously. She glanced at John and then wiggled. He gently set her down and she sat up, her fingers digging into Sherlock's gown near his waist. "You look a lot better," he whispered as he put his back on Amy's back to keep her steady.

"Here, I'll take her." Sherlock sat up, wincing a bit and hoping John hadn't seen it. He cradled little Sandi without any real difficult. "I bet you missed me, didn't you Baby Girl? I know I missed you." He leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Thomas eyed the baby with envy. "Hold me next Daddy?" He was already climbing up Sherlock's legs, pausing at his Dad's knees.

The sibling rivalry seemed to have already begun. Wonderful. Sherlock looked down to Thomas. "I will hold you when I'm a bit better, all right?"

"Not fair!" Thomas yelled, climbed off the bed and ran to the bathroom to cry.

Amy made a small noise and reached up to wrap a hand in Sherlock's hair, giving a small tug. Clearly entertaining. She did it again with a smile and a laugh.

"Oi, Amy." John took a step back and playfully narrowed his eyes before moving toward the bathroom. Two kids...right. Sibling rivalry. "Thomas..." He picked the little boy up and held him close. "Shhh, it's all right." He carried the boy into the other room and started running a hand through his hair. "Amy is smaller and Daddy is hurt. It is nothing against you."

Sherlock shook his head, so his curls from his bangs would rattle in front of little Sandi. "It's okay. You can pull my hair Baby Girl. Daddy does it all the time." He smirked when John came back to the room but it faded when he looked down to the boy who was still crying. "T.C. just wait a few days, okay?"

Thomas sniffled, tears still streaming down his face. "I want Daddy to love me too," he whined, burying his face into John's neck as he clung tightly to his dad.

Sherlock frowned. He supposed the boy had a point. He was more attached to Amy than Thomas. He didn't want to be like his parents, favoring one child over another. It was something he would have to work on if he wanted to be a good father. "Hey, I do…" the briefest of hesitation "…love you too."

That made John look up with a bit of a smile. "See, Daddy loves you too," he said as he started to sway back and forth to try and calm Thomas down. "But he is hurt and you want him to get better, yeah?" He kept swaying and watched Amy pull eagerly at Sherlock's bangs. He wanted to stop that, not promote a bad habit. "You are a bit heavier than Amy and if you want Daddy to get better than you need to be patient."

Sherlock didn't mind at all that little Sandi was pulling on his hair. In fact he found it rather amusing and was encouraging it. He continued to shake his head, so the curly hair would wobble in front of her. A smirk crossed his face as an idea popped into his head. He rolled his eyes up to look at his hair and at the same moment blew a puff of air, causing his bangs to shake a bit.

Thomas sniffled some more and merely nodded. The swaying was calming and soothing. Boy was he tired. He yawned and fell asleep in John's arms.

Amy sat back for a moment, eyes wide as she watched Sherlock's hair. It was clearly very mesmerizing to the child. She bounced a bit and reached up to pull at it again. She smiled and moved forward to attach her mouth to her Dad's chin, gumming at it.

John let his eyes close for a moment in relief. It was nap time, clearly. He kept swaying and chuckled softly as he watched Amy attempt to eat his husband's chin. "Tasty there, Amy?" He grinned and met his husband's gaze. Parents. They were taking care of their family.

Sherlock smiled down at little Sandi. "That can't be very good, now can it? I probably taste like a hospital." He balanced Amy in one hand easily, the other one reaching up to pull out his dog tags and ring. "Hey, do you still like these Baby Girl?" He rattled them next to her, to help draw her attention to item in his hand. So, this was what it was like to be a father. It had seemed like forever ago that they had last spent time with Amy like this. Just after getting married at his Mum's. He had helped during the month of hell but only if John hadn't been around to take care of the baby. He realized now, how much he regretted that. How much of his daughter's life had he missed? Between being kidnapped, the month after being married, and the honeymoon he became aware of the fact that he had missed most of her first months as a newborn.

The hair was instantly forgotten in favor of the loud and bright objects near her, eagerly grabbing the dog tags and shoving one in her mouth. More interesting. She held them with one hand while the other wrapped in the gown above Sherlock's chest. Her eyes settled instantly on her Dad's, studying him intently as she continued to gum at John's name indented into the metal disk.

It didn't take much to make John smiled and at that moment he was grinning lime an idiot. Their daughter was...so grown up and looking more and more like he and Sarah every day. Not that he would ever tell his husband that. After a few moments and moved to sit in the chair beside Sherlock's bed, keeping Thomas close to his chest.

Sherlock had been staring down and watching little Sandi intently, still lost in his own thoughts. The room was quiet. Calm. It was nice, actually. He caught John's movement's out of the corner of his eye. He smiled as he looked up at his husband. "I love you." Would telling John his current thoughts ruin the mood right now? Probably. Maybe later. When they were alone and discussing Thomas.

John let his head fall back and looked up at Sherlock, smiling tiredly. He hadn't slept in nearly two days, worried about taking care of Thomas and Amy, making sure Sherlock was pulling through. There had been no time to sleep. "I love you too," he replied softly before glancing down at Amy. She abandoned the dog tags to rest her head on her Dad's shoulder, her eyes slipping closed as she licked her lips several times. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. "Well, that was wonderful timing," he mumbled with a weak laugh.

Sleep. Christ, that sounded wonderful right now. The children were asleep. Now would be a good time to get some rest in too. From the looks of it, John was in need it too. "Family nap time?" Sherlock gave a faint smirk to John. It seemed like a fantastic idea to him. "You can come lay next to me? I can rest my head on your shoulder?" He was still craving contact from his husband.

How in the world could John turn that down? He stood smoothly and crawled into the bed, shifting Amy the best he could so she could rest between them and Sherlock would still have room on his shoulder. He kept Thomas half on his chest, half on the bed and finally relaxed. The mattress literally gave way under him and he sank into it with a small, satisfied groan. "Family nap time," he muttered through a yawn before his body gave out and he fell asleep.

This was easily one of the best moments in his life right here. Sherlock shifted slightly, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder. He made sure little Sandi was situated in the most secure fashion possible in his arms before closing his eyes. Sleep found him quickly. He was far too relaxed and content to be plagued with nightmares this time. It was the best sleep he'd had in a long time.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Note:

Thought you all would like the ending to the last chapter! My favorite chapter has yet to come! The plot thickens this chapter!

* * *

It didn't take much, just a small cry from Amy and her hand slapped against John's face brought him back into the real word. He groaned heavily and slowly opened his eyes against the bright light of the small hospital room. Right, it had been family nap time but now Amy was crying. Dirty diaper, from the smell of it. Probably hungry. But Sherlock was sleeping, so was Thomas, and they were all crammed together on the hospital bed. "Amy, shh." He moved his arm from around the boy's shoulders to run through her growing hair and she hiccuped, looking at John with wide, curious eyes. "There. There we go," he said, his voice a bit higher than normal.

Sherlock groaned as he became aware of little Sandi crying and moving. Right. It had been just that. A nap. Or had they slept longer than he realized? He wouldn't be able to take care of Amy, hooked up to machines still. He tilted his head to look up at John. His husband was awake. "I would change and feed her but I am a bit tied up right now."

Thomas groaned but didn't wake up. Instead, he rolled away from John and onto the bed full. He fit awkwardly sideways, his cheek pressed into the sheets.

John groaned playfully and smiled as he shoved his face against the mattress. "You are clearly well enough to take care of her," he said with a small laugh before sitting up and grabbing Amy. She gurgled and squealed, kicking her feet in different directions as he maneuvered past Thomas and got off the bed. He knelt in front of the chair, grabbing the baby bag he had brought in, and easily changed her diaper and put her in a new pair of clothes. Simple little shorts and a white shirt. She clung to his neck as he stood and peeked out the door, asking a nurse if she could make his daughter a bottle. The woman nodded and returned a few minutes later. "Prepare yourself, she's a loud eater," he muttered with a yawn as he sat in the chair and pressed the bottle to her lips. She latched on instantly and started swallowing and breathing loudly, her eyes locked intently on John.

Sherlock smirked a bit at John. "I am well aware. She is loud like her Daddy. Although, with the way Thomas eats…the boy just might be louder." He turned his head briefly to look at their son. Still asleep. God, he wished he was still sleeping. Usually he abhorred it, fought it but the more he rested then the faster he would heal and the sooner he could get the hell out of the hospital.

After spending lunch with Thomas for the past two days, John couldn't agree more. The boy had no sense of manners. Amy hiccuped and pushed the empty bottle away, instantly curling into his chest. "Ah, no. Burping," he muttered as he lifted her to his shoulder and started patting her back. "Go back to sleep," he said to his husband with a smile as Amy burped and then finally got to fall asleep against John's chest.

Sherlock shook his head. "I am fine." He paused a moment. "John, when the children are up Mycroft will be along to take them. We need to talk." He glanced over to the sleeping boy and then returned his attention to his husband. "It's about Thomas." Another pause. "Not too long ago I wouldn't have told you, but we're husbands now. I...can't do that anymore." If their honeymoon taught him anything was that communication really did seem to work. On top of that he'd promised John to be a better husband and he supposed keeping secrets wasn't something a married person should do.

John looked up from Amy nervously, glancing at their son as he bit his bottom lip. "Is something wrong?" The words were forced past the sudden lump in his throat and his heart was beating faster. Was Sherlock going to tell him that he no longer wanted to adopt the boy? God, the child would be ruined. "I... an Mycroft take them now? They have had a room set up for us with beds and such." He stood up slowly and held Amy close to his chest, glancing at the door. He had to know now or he might throw up.

"Everything is fine, Love. Just some things Mycroft found while looking into the boy and his mother. Things I was able piece together on my own. They are things you should know before we adopt him. I just didn't want to keep you from it..." Although it was something Sherlock had considered. He looked over to John and nodded. "If you want my brother to take them now I am sure he would."

"Right. Yes." John turned to the door as it opened and...Christ, did Mycroft have this place bugged already? He handed Amy over and gently picked Thomas up. They both left, John tense and not daring to look at his brother-in-law, and returned a bit more relaxed. Calm. Sherlock had said nothing was wrong so he had no reason to be so nervous. He sat down in the chair and let his head fall into his hands. "Is he dying? Or too horrible so we aren't adopting him?" He glanced up at his husband hesitantly.

Sherlock waited for the children leave before speaking. "No, nothing like that." He shook his head slowly. "Thomas just appeared on paper one day. His so called mother probably obtained him by some form of illegal means and then had papers fabricated. Usually that would probably raise red flags on someone older, but a child? No one probably even thought twice about stamping the papers. Mycroft didn't find out much about the boy or the mother. She probably flew under an alias, so it isn't surprising. The only thing my brother could find on Thomas is his birthday. December seventeenth. So, he will be six this year. Anyway, she was trying to protect him from something or possibly someone, the latter is more likely. She isolated him as child, took the boy on business trips. So, his parents could be out there somewhere still. His _real_ parents. Someone could be after Thomas, and iy is possible it could put our family in danger. I am actually still for adopting him, but knowing what you do. Do you still want to?"

Oh. John lifted his head slowly and bit his bottom lip. What else could they do? Thomas was attached to them...well, mostly Sherlock. But Amy. God, he never wanted her to be in danger and taking the boy in would certainly make things a bit worse for her. "I... shit." He couldn't say no, couldn't turn the boy away. "Could it be part of his web? Moriarty, I mean?" His voice was quiet, shaky. Honestly, how many other criminal webs were there in the world? Stupid question, Sherlock probably knew the answer. He didn't want to find out.

John didn't answer the question. Sherlock gave a small shrug. "Maybe. Probably. The network is mostly gone now. Most of the members were either killed by me, Mycroft's people, you and Dad. That doesn't mean we got everyone, but almost all the key players are gone now." Another shrug as he studied his husband intently. He could tell John wanted to say no but his husband couldn't seem to bring himself to do it.

John had never felt so torn in his entire life. Amy was his biological daughter and his heart twisted at the thought of anything happened to her. But Thomas...the boy had grown on him and how in the Hell could he say no? "I...don't know. Leaving him would mean he would most certainly get caught by whoever. Taking him...Amy." Was he being a dick by saying no? "Fuck."

"If you don't want to keep the boy, then we don't have to. If you want to say no, I will understand." If they decided not to keep Thomas, it would certainly crush the boy. And John was right, whoever was after Thomas would certainly get the boy. They did have Amy to think about too. Was it wrong Sherlock still wanted to take Thomas in?

"You still want to keep him?" John knew the answer and cleared his throat. "I...yeah. We can't just leave him." He nodded and leaned forward, resting his head on Sherlock's bed. "We can't do that to him. D'you think..." He cleared his throat and shrugged the best he could. "He doesn't know, does he? I mean...why are they even after him. He is almost six. What's the worse he could do? Make a mess with dinner? Not eat his vegetables?"

"Are you sure?" Sherlock was sure it would invite something dangerous. Was that why he wanted to keep Thomas? He missed the thrill of the chase that much? God, was he just being selfish and wanting to keep the boy as bait? He sighed at his thoughts. "I think...he may be related to Moriarty. Not his son or anything but some distant relation. It's the only reason I can think of..." He trailed off with a shrug.

"Just our luck, right? That some random kid you rescue during a plane crash is related to that..." John cut himself off and stood up, starting to pace the length of the room. Would they ever catch a break? Honestly, he was getting just a tad sick of everything. He wanted a normal life. Sherlock solving crimes, he working in surgery. Their kids growing up without a worry. "It is fine. We aren't just going to leave him. He's so attached to you and I am honestly afraid of what he would do if we just left him."

"What if it wasn't random? What if she knew we would be on that flight? But the plane was sabotaged. We were all supposed to die John." Sherlock frowned a bit. "When she was begging for me to help Thomas, she used my first name. At first, I brushed it off thinking she must have heard you use it during flight..." He sighed again, followed by another shrug.

John was going to be sick to his stomach. This was...all of it was planned. They weren't supposed to be in the hospital. They were supposed to be dead. "So...it is all a trap and whoever is running this just... _knows_." Of course. They would never get away from anything from their past. They were always in danger and now they had a family. A growing family. "And just like that you have got another case." He leaned against the wall opposite of his husband's bed, face pale.

"It appears to be that way, Love. If they are smart they will disappear for awhile. Wait and plan their next move. It may take time to find them." That made Sherlock uneasy. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone and it felt like he just finished playing catch up. "Do you think we should ever tell Thomas? Not now obviously, but maybe when he is older?"

All of this was almost too much for him to handle. John slowly turned his head and glanced out the window, watching a nurse walk by in a rush. "I...don't know. When he is older and they haven't caught him...perhaps? I just don't want his entire world to fall apart. That's the last thing I want." He swallowed hard and shakily pushed himself off the wall, moving toward the bed with a small frown. "Kiss me," he whispered brokenly, lifting one knee on to the bed and gently meeting Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock was quiet a moment and was about to speak when John asked him for a kiss. He gave one readily, his arms wrapping around his husband. He moved to the side a bit so he could pull John on the bed without crushing himself in the process. "Everything will turn out fine Love," he murmured against his husband's lips and then resumed the kissing.

How could Sherlock possibly know that everything would be all right? John grunted into the kiss as he moved on to the bed and on his side, continuing to kiss his husband. Distracting. That was all he needed and, damn it all, he was being selfish but maybe it was helping Sherlock, too. His hand moved between them and he opened his pants, shoving his hand into his underwear with a moan.

Once John was situated on the bed, Sherlock straddled his husband. He continued the kissing, his hand sliding into his partner's pants as well. He gently removed John's hand and replaced it with his own. He began a steady pace, his body pressing into the man below him with a whimper. "I love you," he whispered against his husband's lips.

Shit. John should say no, should wiggle away so Sherlock wouldn't push himself, but his hand was wonderful. Long, skilled fingers and pressure from his husband rocking into him. His mind was too cluttered now to turn him down and make it stop. "T-too." Wait. Not a full sentence. "Love you, too. Love you," he managed to say before he moaned and lifted a hand to dig into his husband's shoulder blade.

Sherlock smirked, biting John's bottom lip for a moment before deftly moving his tongue into his husband's mouth. He whimpered from the nails, his body pressing into the man below him a little more roughly. His own erection was prevalent now. He ignored it and continued to stroke John's cock, the pace a little faster in his excitement.

God. Good. So good. "Yes," John gasped and ripped away from the kiss before glancing between them. Erection. How had Sherlock managed to get hard? Sod it. He ripped at the gown and grabbed his husband's penis, stroking it in time with Sherlock's movements. "You all right?" He muttered weakly as his hips snapped up into his husband's hand.

Sherlock smirked again. "Been refusing medication," he muttered as a way of explanation to his husband's obvious confusion. God, John stroking him felt amazing but now he was breathing with some difficulty and it put pressure on his chest. He needed to calm down a bit. "Just…need to take it easy…" He admitted, his head relaxing into his husband's shoulder. He continued to stroke John, trying to concentrate on keeping his breathing evenly.

Did he stop? John made his hand freeze, gasping a bit before he came roughly in his underwear, a bit spreading on to his shirt. "God. Oh, Sherlock." He went limp against the mattress and closed his eyes. "Y-You?" His hand squeezed his husband's cock questioningly.

Sherlock dropped his hand to his side, wiping the mess onto the sheets. He wanted to say 'yes' to John but he knew that wasn't a good idea. "No…" He admitted quietly at last. He stilled his anxious body, as he continued to try and breathe normally. "God, we are going to shag as soon as I am able." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the erection but it was difficult and he had no desire to move off his husband.

John wasn't hurt because he understood. Sherlock wanted to get better and jerking his husband off might ruin all the progress. "Sorry. Didn't mean to." He slowly pulled his hand away before running his other hand through his partner's hair. "Sorry. 'M sorry." He felt horrible because now he couldn't do anything and he had put his husband in this situation.

"It is fine Love." Sherlock tilted his head to the side and gave John a kiss on the neck. With restraint he didn't continue them. Maybe in a couple of days he would be able to shag his husband or at the very least receive if it wasn't too terribly rough. He nestled into John a bit more, enjoying the closeness with his husband despite not being able to anything about the bulge still pressed against the gown.

"You still have quite the hard-on," John whispered as he weakly wrapped his arms around his husband. "Can suck you off, no movement for you." He lifted his body up to pinch his husband's erection between them. He tensed his stomach with a bit of a cocky grin. God, he really wanted to help Sherlock.

"Not worried about the movement. I am worried about breathing. Too much erratic air intake and I could stress my chest too much and break stitches open. I would rather not try for a third surgery." Sherlock lifted his head to give John a faint smirk before shrugging. "It will go away eventually..."

John still felt horrible but understood, nodding his head a bit and relaxing underneath his husband. "Good on you, all this self control and such." He smiled and placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's temple. "When you're healed," he promised as he ran a hand through his husband's hair. "Nice and slow so I don't hurt you." There. Maybe...he should stop talking about shagging. Help Sherlock out a little. "We talked...Mycroft and me. And I think we are doing better."

Sherlock managed another smirk. Having self control was going to drive him mad. Knowing they would shag later was worth it, he supposed. "That is good." He wasn't sure when John and Mycroft would have had time to talk but then he remembered he had been without contact for the longest day and a half of his life.

There was a pause and John felt his breath catch as he studied his husband. Laying on top of him, smiling a bit...well, smirking. And he was John's husband. He had a feeling he would never get over that. "I love looking at you," he whispered, reaching a hand up to run gently across Sherlock's cheek. "I get shivers when I realize I get to grow old with you."

Sherlock smirked a bit. He was getting better at these kinds of conversations and he was gaining confidence in it. Except, right now he didn't know what to say. He never had an immediate reply but he would think of something, he always did. This was new, not feeling unsure about their relationship. "I love that I can lay with you in moments like these and no longer worry I am not a good husband because you've made me better." He leaned down and kissed John on the nose.

That thought made John blush. Made Sherlock better? That was such a burden, he felt. Something like that was so monumental. "You've turned me from a fighter to a lover," he muttered before clearing his throat. That was...a lot more emotion that he was used to sharing. "You helped make civilian life livable." And it was true because with Sherlock he would have turned right back around after he was healed and gone back to Afghanistan.

"You have turned me into a domesticated man and you know what? I like it. I'm glad I met you. I love you." Sherlock leaned down and gave John another kiss on his husband's nose. He nuzzled his head into John's neck. He loved these moments with his husband. Just laying with his partner was one of the things about married life he would never tire of.

Sherlock Holmes domesticated. It still sounded odd but John had actually seen it and it was quite the sight. "I am glad I got shot in the shoulder since it brought me to you," he stated into his husband's hair. Cheesy, yes, but sod it. It was true. His head rolled to the side and he let his eyes close, shifting a bit under Sherlock and wincing when he felt his dried mess inside of his underwear and across his shirt. "Can I ask you something?"

Sherlock wished he had taken the initiative sooner, then maybe John wouldn't have been shot but…he kept that to himself. He lifted his head to look down at this husband. Was this good or bad? God, would this start a fight? Should he even be worried about? "Of course my Love. You can ask me anything."

"If I hadn't got shot in the shop that day...do you think we would have ended up together?" John smiled warmly and lifted his head, giving his husband a quick, gentle kiss. "Because I never would have...acted on what I was feeling I would have just kept tossing off in the shower and dreaming about you. I never would have worked up the nerve." He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and swallowed hard.

Oh. Sherlock was quiet a moment while he thought about the question. "I don't know. Maybe. I would like to think that someday I would have come to my senses and done something or said something. I know this sounds stupid, and entirely cheesy but…everything that has happened to us brought us here. And at the end of the day if I get to lay with you, it's all that really matters." He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the pillow underneath John's head. God, what had happened to him? They were good changes but… No, he wasn't going to let his thoughts ruin this moment. He looked back to his husband and gave a small smile.

"Stop thinking. It is annoying," John whispered playfully with a laugh. He pulled Sherlock's head down against his chest and grinned. "I probably would have gotten so sexually frustrated that I would have pinned you to the floor of the flat and had my way with you," he muttered into his husband's hair. No fight. Curious question. There. Simple.

"You should do that one day anyway. When I come home from finishing up a case." Sherlock tilted his head up to smirk at John. God, that actually sounded amazing right now. "It would have to be a surprise though, don't let me know it's coming." The smirk only got bigger. So, now he had two fantasies he wanted to fulfill with his husband. Did John have any? Should he ask? Shit, thinking about shagging John was making his erection some back. "God I want you so bad right now," he uttered into his husband's chest.

"Oi, my name is John," he replied with a cocky grin as he arched slightly into his husband. Bad. He couldn't make his husband tired and make everything worse. "Sorry. Didn't mean to do that to you. Can't help how adorable I am," he ran his hand through Sherlock's hair and held him closer. "I want to make it better but I know I can't."

So unfair. Sherlock couldn't help but whimper when John bent up into him. The self control he had exerted so well before was beginning to crumble. Maybe he could seduce his husband? He shifted so he was straddling John, but a little lower on his husband's legs. His head leaned down to suck and nip at his husband's neck, as he pressed his erection into John's thigh with a small moan.

Oh. No, not good. If Sherlock didn't stop it would certainly lead to another surgery. Or at least something that wouldn't be good for his body. But that mouth and the feeling of his husband's erection against his thigh made him gasp slightly. Should he say something? "Fuck," he muttered.

"Want to," Sherlock breathed into John's neck. He moved his lips to his husband's ear. He began nibbling and sucking on it. He pressed into John again, moaning once more. His breathing began getting heavier already and it didn't take long for the chest pains to start to remind him that he wouldn't be able to do anything. "Damn it," he muttered in defeat. He collapsed slightly to one side of John. The chests pains wouldn't be so bad if he was taking the medication but then he probably wouldn't be able to get an erection so he was screwed either way he supposed.

John frowned and relaxed into the mattress, holding Sherlock close to him. "It's okay. Later, I promise. You can get better and shag my thigh all you want." He placed a kiss against his husband's forehead and let his eyes close. They both had to stay patient and then everything would be fine. Life would go back to normal. "We should get you some ibuprofen so you at least won't be in pain anymore."

"Just want to go home." Sherlock didn't care if he sounded like a whining child. "You're a doctor, you can take care of me at the flat." A devious smirk crossed his lips. "In oh so many ways, I might add. Maybe take a look at few cases for Lestrade." A pause. "I will look into Thomas some more when I'm a hundred percent. Might see if Mycroft can find anything else."

"Keep talking like that and your chest pains will be the least of your worries," John replied lowly, his eyes narrowed a bit. "I am a doctor but the best care you could get is right here. I don't want to mess anything up. I already put you here," he whispered softly before he took a shaky breath. Well, that was certainly a mood killer, wasn't it?

Sherlock frowned and instead of answering, he buried his head into John's shoulder to pout quietly. He just wanted to go home, where life could at least be quasi normal. Just laying around and waiting to get better in a hospital was something he had done more times then he cared to. The only thing that made it worthwhile was he got to lay here with John. Only now they were fighting apparently.

"I do love you, though. I may never forgive myself for what happened but I will never stop loving you." John looked at Sherlock and placed a kiss in his hair. Definitely started a fight. Maybe if he...entertained his husband? "My eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." Shit, he was singing. It was a song he had learned from American troops back in Iraq but it had always cheered them up. "He is trampling out a village where the grapes of wrath are stored."

Sherlock was about to say something but then John started singing. The hell? He wasn't sure what was going and he wasn't sure what reaction his husband wanted from him right now. He kept his face buried in John's shoulder because he still felt like being a child and pout. He had been doing so well at being an adult too, but it was just easier to fall back into old habits.

Right. Not working. John cleared his throat and licked his lips, pulling Sherlock a little closer. He'd embarrassed himself and upset Sherlock. Bloody wonderful. "Sorry about whatever I did," he stated with a small sigh. What had he done? Sherlock wasn't even talking to him. "Singing always cheers me up...good song."

"Not mad at you," Sherlock said, though his voice was a bit muffled from his face being buried into John's shoulder. "Just want to go home and I can't. I'm pouting." God, he really was a child wasn't he? Was he worse than Thomas was, when the boy pouted? "Playing the violin usually helps but I don't have that option right now."

"I tried singing but I'm not too good at it." John managed a weak smile and moved his hand to ruffle his husband's hair. "Soon, dear. Soon and you will be back home with your family. And the cat." He smirked and turned his head, gently moving Sherlock's head up. "Stay positive. That's what is going to help."

"You weren't that bad," Sherlock admitted into John's skin. The cat. How could he have forgotten about Hamish? He finally shifted, so his face wasn't buried but his cheek still rested against his husband's shoulder. "It probably hates me now or ran away from home. Do you think Thomas will be one of those kids who will pull the cat's tail and what have you? Assuming Hamish will go anywhere near the boy."

"Right. No, I was actually horrible." John laughed and managed to shrug. At least his husband was trying to comfort him after his failed attempt to cheer Sherlock up. "Sure he is fine. Mrs. Hudson has been taking care of him. Your brother told me. As for Thomas...I don't know. Probably. I want to pull that cat's tail half the time."

"The cat isn't that bad. It isn't my fault the thing got attached to me." Sherlock fell silent a moment, unsure if he should go on. "It probably didn't help we weren't getting on the first month of marriage. He was a bit stand offish with you then, but he didn't seem to mind you when you had come home temporarily from war. I am sure he will warm up to you again."

"I love you," John said through a yawn, burying his face into Sherlock's hair. "You have exhausted me, oh perfect and wonderful one." He yawned again and tried to stretch but stopped himself when his left shoulder twinged. Shit. That hadn't happened in a while. He cleared his throat and relaxed against the mattress before glancing at Sherlock. "Nap?"

"Love you too." Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. A nap? That sounded like a wonderful idea. He shifted, so his head came to rest on John's chest. One arm draped over his husband's stomach and his reached up to run through his partner's hair. "Sounds good." His eyes closed, the hand in John's hair stilling and falling to his side.


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note:

Things get even more interesting...

* * *

Apparently his husband was exhausted. John smiled, content to watch his husband sleep for a bit before his eyes slowly closed and he finally fell asleep. It was only two hours, something he would have to cherish because they did have two children, and Amy was suddenly on his chest. It was startling to wake up looking at your own eyes. Mycroft smiled a bit and left the room after he let Thomas in. "Hey there baby girl," he muttered sleepily as he tired to stay as still and quiet as possible so Sherlock could continue sleeping. "Look at you," he whispered as he gently ran a hand through her hair and let his head fall back. She seemed interested enough in a button on his shirt as it was.

Sherlock managed to sleep a couple hours longer than John. He came awake with a slight groan. At least he didn't wake up feeling tired. He actually _felt _rested. When had little Sandi and Thomas gotten here? The boy was curled at his feet again. He smirked slightly at the sight and then turned his attention to John. "Did you get enough sleep Love?"

John rolled his head slightly to the side, shrugging a bit. "Probably not but I wanted you to sleep." He moved a bit, met Sherlock's lips, and glanced at Amy. She hadn't moved which meant she was still asleep. Good. The last thing he wanted was to leave Sherlock. The constant contact had cheered him up, pulled his mind from the horrid places it had started to go to. "That is what husbands and dads are for," he whispered.

"Want me to take her so you can get some more sleep? I am actually feeling pretty good right now. Better than I have in the last couple days." Which was true. Sherlock leaned over and gave John a quick kiss. "I love you." Hopefully he would be leaving the hospital in the next day or at the latest two. He had been here almost four now? He wasn't entirely sure, the days were starting to blur together.

John had opened his mouth to reply to his husband when the door opened and Mycroft came in. Rushed. That was never good.

"Sherlock, we have got a problem," Mycroft stated gently, eyes wide as he glanced at John. His younger brother was still recovering from the second surgery but this couldn't wait. "Maria? The woman from the island?" John tensed at that, glancing nervously at his husband. "She has requested that charges be filed against John. Apparently Kelly talked to her and she knows." His voice was soft, broken...defeated.

"No," John's air escaped him in a rush and he sat up, startling Amy awake as he struggled to breathe.

"Really? That's interesting because that's hearsay. Second hand knowledge won't fly in any court. So, I hope she has good luck with that. And if she wants to press the issue, then we will file charges on her. Assault and battery, endangering a minor, slander, libel. Oh I am sure if I reacquaint myself with a law book I can find some more to add on. So tell her to back off or she can go to jail too, the fucking bitch." Sherlock didn't use profanity like that often but he was beyond pissed right now.

Mycroft was swaying slightly on his feet, eyes locked intently on John. Would those laws be the same in Spain? Hell, in that case his husband was right. He lifted a hand hesitantly to the scars still healing on his cheek from her slap. Right now, though, it was clear that John was rattled.

"We can.. keep the police outside the hospital for now," Mycroft muttered.

"Police? They are already outside?" John felt his heart stop, he swore on it. Outside to arrest him? "F-For what? I...he is fine. Alive." Amy twisted, wiggled, and pressed into her Dad's stomach with a small cry.

"Wait, Mycroft. Where exactly did we crash? If we crashed far enough west, it would be out of Spain's jurisdiction and they won't be able to arrest John or even be able prosecute. Not that the case will stand up in court to begin with. This is ridiculous. Please tell me you have already contacted the embassy and got John a lawyer? Hell, you are the British government! Can't you work the media up into a frenzy and say they are persecuting us for being two married men? Because that woman sure as hell is. In fact, find everything you can on that woman. I swear to God I will tear her character to shreds. Then we will see how well her 'testimony' holds up in court." Sherlock was riled up and if the heart monitor had been plugged in, it would be beeping wildly right now.

Lawyer? Why would John need a lawyer? Oh God, he was going to jail for trying to kill his husband, wasn't he? He blankly started to rock Amy in an attempt to quiet her some. This really couldn't be happening.

"I have already got him a lawyer, the best I know," Mycroft replied with a nod. "I can get on the media twist. It shouldn't be a problem." He pulled his phone from his suit jacket and started talking.

"Sherlock, calm down." John reached a hand out to rest on his husband's shoulder. "You need to get better. Don't want a third surgery." He smiled a bit and sighed a bit when Amy finally stopped crying.

Calm down? How the hell was he supposed to calm down when someone was threatening his family? His husband! Shit, his chest hurt though. Sherlock closed his eyes, resting them a moment. When he opened them he looked over to Mycroft. "I want to make a formal statement. I will just say what Kelly saw was what she _perceived_ was an attack. It was actually accident. I slipped and fell. John tried to catch me but ended up falling on me. It is enough to cause reasonable doubt anyway."

John looked over at Sherlock. So keep lying? That just...he couldn't. He tackled his husband, he did it on purpose. "I don't want to lie." He turned to his husband and shook his head. "I took you down, Sherlock. I knew what I was doing." He looked up at Mycroft and took a deep breath. "Do they want to take me now?"

Mycroft got off the phone and nodded hesitantly. "Yes."

"No. They can't…" Sherlock was having trouble breathing again. "Mycroft…please…" he gasped out, "…don't let them take John…" Air. He needed air but it was so hard to breathe. His chest felt like it was on fire. He needed his husband right now. "D-doctor…n-need…" He wheezed before his eyes closed again but this time didn't reopen.

Okay. Calm. Up. Hand Amy to Mycroft. "Doctor!" John moved easily to the other side of the bed and studied Sherlock. Still chest. Right. So, possible reopening of the wound. "C'mon love. Wake up." He took his husband's head in his hands before the doctor rushed in and gently pushed John away.

"Sherlock?" The doctor started CPR almost right away.

Sherlock gasped for breath as his eyes opened. Shit. His chest still hurt, although he was fairly certain it was because of the compressions this time. He coughed and looked around wildly. John. He needed to make sure his husband was still there. He couldn't lose John, not after having fought so hard to stay together.

"There we go." John smiled warmly and moved forward, holding his husband's hand. "It is all right. You are fine. I am right here." He glanced at Mycroft, holding Amy and nodding a bit before leaving the room. "Thomas, follow Uncle Mycroft," he said softly before looking at Sherlock. The man was in pain, he had done that. God, he was a horrible husband. "Deep breath. You are going to be fine."

"John..." Sherlock trailed off with a cough. "They can't take you away...they can't..." He didn't care how desperate and needy he sounded. "I need you..." He trailed off again with a longer fit of coughing. He had felt fine when he woke up but now he felt like he had just been admitted to the hospital all over again. He was never going to get better was he? Something was going to keep happening and he would be stuck in this hospital forever. John would go to jail. He would lose everything. No. He couldn't think like that. He had just gotten over all those depressing thoughts. He was stronger than that, damn it.

"I am not leaving. I'm going to stay right here until you get better. Promise." John nodded and squeezed his husband's hand. Mycroft could fix this. He fixed everything. And he couldn't leave. It was clear how much Sherlock needed him right now. "Just stay calm. I will be here for you whenever you wake up." He leaned forward to place a kiss on Sherlock's cheek before glancing up at the doctor. The man was frowning but clearly relieved that Sherlock was awake again.

Wake up? Sherlock was determined never to sleep again. He was worried if he went to sleep, John would be gone the next time he woke up. It wasn't entirely irrational now. Damn that woman. John should have left her to die on that island. He was getting angry again and he had to force himself to calm down. The grip on John's hand tightened. "Please don't leave me," he whispered brokenly. This wasn't really helping him calm down. He was certain he was on the verge of panicking. The thought of losing his husband forever… God, he need to stop thinking like that. He needed to get better so he could be strong for John, not be some quivering and needy child.

John stood up and climbed on to the bed, pulling Sherlock against him and running a hand through his husband's hair. "Not going to leave. I am never going to leave you. Calm. Shh." He placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head and let his eyes close for a moment. He had gotten them into quite the mess, hadn't he? There was no going back from what happened on that bloody island. "Can you take a nap for me? Can you do that? I'm going to hold you just like this but you need to rest. Do you remember how great you felt after your last nap?"

Sherlock relaxed into his husband immediately. He was just being stupid. He hated it. Hated himself. What did John see in him? He sighed at his thoughts. The hand in his hair was calming. Just concentrate on that. Work on breathing. Staying calm. Everything was going to be fine. He was Sherlock Holmes and he didn't lose it like this. There. Better. A little at least. "Love you," he murmured as he closed his eyes and sleep found him quickly.

"I love you, too," John replied softly, holding his husband close. Maybe some sleep would calm him down, make him relax a bit more. This was...not how he pictured everything after their honeymoon. Their married life was definitely not what he had wanted for them so far. Maybe after this they would he fine. They would be back at the flat with their family. Cases would start coming in. Back to normal.

* * *

The news had made its way to London. As soon as Nancy heard about it she called her oldest son. "Mycroft! What is going down there! I knew I should have come with you! Why is there a woman saying horrible things about my boys on the telly?" She was clearly upset. "I am flying down there on the first flight available!"

What? The news was being broadcast in London? "Mum! Mum, calm down!" Mycroft glanced down at Amy. This was going to take a lot of damage control, apparently. "We are firing right back. John told me that she was rather rude to them on the island. She didn't even see the attack herself. What is she saying, Mum? Can you tell me?"

"It is on national television Mycroft! Some woman…Maria I think it is? Apparently she is a member of some group against gay marriage and they are backing her. Got her a news slot on every major station. Says John and Sherlock are a prime example on why two men shouldn't be allowed to marry." Nancy wasn't sure whether she should cry or be outraged by such inflammatory remarks. "She said there was a boy with them and he would be corrupted by their wicked ways. That they were obviously evil. That John brutally attacked Sherlock with malicious intent. And that Sherlock was going to die as penance for his sinning ways. What a disgusting, horrible person!"

"Don't worry. I have already got several news slots for John. We are going to boost his image, and Sherlock's. We have got his Army uniform here and he is set up for an interview tonight on BBC One right before Maria. If she wants to slander them, then we will come out fighting. We have the injured veteran argument. Fighting for the country and such. Loving husband, staying with Sherlock. Kelly has agreed to help, saying she heard Sherlock tell John to tackle him. Mum, it is going to be fine." Mycroft glanced into the hospital room at the two sleeping men and cleared his throat. "It has to be."

"I am still coming down there! No one does this to the Holmes family. We are a perfectly respectable family and I will not have some woman who knows nothing about my boys be saying such things!" Nancy fell quiet a moment. "Mycroft…did John really tackle Sherlock? Almost kill him?" Her son-in-law couldn't have done such an awful thing, could he?

Mycroft tore his eyes away from the room at Nancy's question. He couldn't lie to her. "Yes, Mum," he whispered as he sat down and held Amy close to his chest. "John wasn't doing too well so Sherlock...Sherlock made him. He said something to fire John up and was expecting it all. Nice punch to the face and then he had a punctured rib. John did his best to save him. Used reeds to keep the pressure out of Sherlock's chest and stitched a second cut together with vine and a fish bone. Mum...don't hate him for it. He feels horrible enough, trust me."

Oh. Nancy sat down on the couch. What was she supposed to say to that? "I see…" She finally commented but trailed off. "Ahem. Well, I'm still coming." Don't be mad at John. She could be mad at the woman on the telly though. "How is Sherlock? Is…he staying with John after what happened?"

"He is adamant about John staying by his side. The police have contacted me multiple times and asked to take John in but Sherlock fights to keep him," Mycroft said softly. His Mum was disappointed, that much was clear. "And John...Mum, you are upset, aren't you? It is...tough, I know. But that island, we really have no way of knowing what it was like at all."

"Do you…" Nancy trailed off. She had talked to John many times and she adored him like her own son, but now... "Do you think he will hurt Sherlock again? Your brother…he doesn't deserve to be in that kind of situation again…" She trailed off again. She didn't think John was like that and she couldn't imagine Sherlock putting up with something like that. Not anymore anyway. She failed her youngest son once, but she wasn't going to fail him this time.

Shit. Mycroft knew this wasn't the first physical altercation between the two of them and...and if he told their Mum that then John would no longer be in the family or they might lose Sherlock. "I don't think he will, Mum. John is respectable and he does love Sherlock. This has never happened to this magnitude and the punctured lung...it was just a freak accident." He nodded even though Nancy couldn't see it. "You can talk to him after the interview tonight if you want."

"Right of course." Nancy was trying to calm down and she probably would have been able to but that woman was still on the telly. Even with it on mute she was annoyed and she used the remote to turn it off. "We can talk when I get down there. I will probably be down there sometime in the evening. We need to take care of this mess on the telly first. Then we can deal with this…family issue."

* * *

"I don't see why I need to wear the uniform," John muttered unhappily, glancing at his husband for a long moment. The telly interviews seemed a tad ridiculous but Sherlock was famous. The last name Holmes carried a lot of pride. "Sherlock, tell Mycroft I look ridiculous." He turned and his dog tags clicked together. "This is ridiculous."

"Why Captain Watson, I think you look dashing." Sherlock smirked a bit. He had felt better after his nap. Since John was wearing his dog tags, he had slipped the ring on his finger. The weight felt weird but he didn't mind it. He should be up there with his husband, standing strong with John but the doctors wouldn't allow it. He was stuck on the sidelines. Useless.

"You just want to get me into bed," John replied with a smile, blinking rapidly as Mycroft moved in front of him straightened everything up. "What if I mess up? This is national telly. Everybody will think I am an idiot. A massive idiot."

"Just stay calm. They are going to attack you. Ask you why you would tackle your own husband. Why you have a daughter. Why you deserve to be married." Mycroft stepped back and nodded proudly at his work.

"You expect me to stay calm during that? Are you serious?" John's eyes narrowed slightly and he picked Amy up, holding her close for a bit of comfort. "Why not just punch her in the face, yeah? That will get the job done."

Sherlock smiled encouragingly at John. "You will do fine Love. You have got nerves of steel. Don't let a bunch of gossiping reporters rattle you. Just think of me, if you feel flustered. Think of our daughter, think calm thoughts. You will do brilliantly I just know it." The smile returned as he kept his gaze on his husband.

"I don't see why we can't just keep our business to ourselves and let her just say stuff and looking like an idiot," John muttered as he fixed a lock of hair on Amy's head.

"Because you are part of a very influential family now and you need to help protect the Holmes name," Mycroft replied simply as he tugged John toward the corner of the room where the camera was set up. John was hooked up to a microphone, an earpiece shoved in his ear. Mycroft took Amy gently and moved to stand beside Sherlock.

"I look stupid," John muttered as he tugged at his Army jacket, adjusting his last name before clearing his throat. Live telly. Oh, God, he was going to choke. "I can't do this."

Sherlock gave John another reassuring smile. He lifted his hands to sign to his husband. 'You will do great. I love you.' He was a little surprise the interview was _in_ the room. So much for privacy. God, was the camera going to pan to him and make him look like some driveling, pathetic twat who couldn't take care of himself?

Deep breath. The light turned on and John shifted slightly in his chair before smiling a bit. A pause. "Yes. Yeah, thank you." Another tight smile before he cleared his throat. "Yes ma'am. Two in Iraq and two in Afghanistan." He wiggled his shoulder without realizing it. Then his smile faltered, his face draining. "I mean yes because it is in the job description bu-" He tensed and glanced off camera at Mycroft. "That's not really the reason I did that. That isla-" His hands curled into fists in his lap. "Sherlock, my _husband_, was helping me get out of a dark place. I don't even know how long we had been there." His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side, pursing his lips together. "I, in no way, think that has anything to do with the fact that Sherlock and I are married, no. My past as a soldier should have nothing to do with my marriage." A pause before he nodded, cleared his throat, and marginally relaxed. "I fell in love with Sherlock as a person. We lived together, shared a flat, and one day he saved my life. It was only a matter of time I think."

Mycroft glanced down at his brother. "How do you think he is doing?"

Sherlock was about to reply but to his surprise his mother walked in. He glanced up at Mycroft questioningly. He though she wasn't supposed to be here until after the press conference. Wait...what was she doing...?

Nancy entered the room. She was a woman on a mission and good God John didn't seem to be doing well at all. She stood up next to him. She smiled warmly to the camera. Even without a microphone hooked up, her voice could be heard. It was calm, clear, and crisp. She had a commanding voice and it dared someone to interrupt her. "Hi, I'm Nancy Holmes. John's mother-in-law, but I consider him my son. Shame on you for speaking such defamatory words towards him. He is a decorated war veteran. My husband died to keep him safe, so Captain Watson could take on the responsibility of taking care of my son. What happened on that island was a tragedy, but pointing fingers will solve nothing. This family has suffered enough. How dare you try make this into some kind of circus act! If you want a real story, then maybe you should take a closer look at the person who stirred this up to begin with. Maria's oldest daughter is a lesbian and when she came out of the closet he mother beat her within an inch of her life. This woman's own bigotry was used against her child. She is an adult now but her daughter was outraged by her mother's actions. I spoke to her and she has agreed to talk to the press about her mother. She is waiting outside the hospital right now." There was a silence and then the media people all ran out of the room like a crazed herd. Once it had quieted down she smirked at her sons. "Nobody fucks with the Holmes family." She turned her gaze on John, eyes narrowed. "Come, I want to talk to you." She left the room, before any arguments could be made.

John sat for a long moment...shell shocked with wide eyes. So that was over, apparently. He stood and pulled the microphone from his uniform and the earpiece away. Nancy was going to kill him. Pull him out of the hospital, murder him, and convince Sherlock he ran away. He glanced nervously at his husband and took a deep breath. Well, he had butchered that interview and now his mother-in-law was going to punch him. "Right." He straightened his posture, took a deep breath, and followed Nancy out of the room. Did he speak first? Or should Nancy talk first since she obviously wanted to talk to him. He stood straight, looking down at his boots as he cleared his throat.

Nancy eyed John in silence for several minutes. "As you can imagine I am not overly thrilled with you right now, but I can't change what happened. You better spend the rest of your life making it up to him. If you _ever_ do anything to hurt my baby boy again, I will come after you. I like you John, but I am not a person you want to cross. Do we have and understanding?"

"Yes ma'am," John replied softly. It felt like he had just disappointed his mother. There was no going back, really. He had ruined Nancy's life. Killed her husband, nearly killed her youngest son. She had every right to hate him. What else did he say. "I am truly sorry for what happened. I know I can't ever take it back but I will spend the rest of my life making sure that Sherlock gets the best treatment he deserves."

Nancy nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good." She embraced John in a tight hug for moment. She had been in need of one for awhile now. "Okay. Let's go back and see my boy. He needs us right now." She managed a small smile to her son-in-law.

So a bit better? John returned the hug and cleared his throat before looking back at the room. "I have been staying with him, Mrs. Holmes. Taking care of him the best I can. It is the least I can do. I...I just feel..." He shook his head and cleared his throat before looking down at his uniform with a frown. "Can I go on a walk? I will be back soon." He nodded and brushed by Nancy, heading toward the back door.


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note:

Mostly cute Johnlock this chapter. Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

Nancy frowned, hesitated and then followed after her son-in-law. "I upset you didn't I? Not about Sherlock, but about the interview? I didn't mean to step on any toes or take over like that. I was just…trying to help. I did it for Sherlock." She was guessing really. Military men didn't like help like that, or at least Siger never had. Maybe John would understand. Or she could be wrong, something else might be bothering him? A lot had happened, so she supposed it was possible.

"What? No, that was fine. I was dying in front of that camera. You did us all a favor." John laughed slightly and glanced down at his feet again. "It's just...I have been thinking that I really don't deserve Sherlock and I feel like this is proof." Which it was, wasn't it? He tackled his husband, took him down and nearly killed him. Now Mycroft and Nancy hated him. That seemed like proof enough. "I don't deserve him."

Nancy was quiet a long time. "No one will be good enough, in my eyes, for either of my sons. But you make Sherlock happy. He never would have found that without you. It reminds me of when he was a young boy. Such a happy, caring, and loving child…but sensitive." She paused for a moment before going on. "…His father beat that out of him… He became so closed off, withdrawn. Turned to drugs. It almost killed him you know…" Her eyes had tears brimming in them but they didn't fall. "Please, he needs you. He has learned to love again. Don't…don't take that away from my baby boy. He deserves so much more than what Siger and I gave him. He deserves you, so don't you stand there and tell me he doesn't. Mothers know best." Despite the tears that threatened to fall she managed a small smile.

John moved forward and tightly embraced Nancy, nodding and slamming his eyes shut. "Yes ma'am," he replied as he pulled away. "I will never leave Sherlock. I'm too selfish when it comes to him. I constantly want him in my arms and snuggled against me... just touching me in some way. I could never leave him. And-" he shrugged nervously and licked his lips. "And I'm glad that I have been able to see a different side of him. It's made me so happy." He stood on his toes a bit to place a kiss on Nancy's cheek. "Want to go back, then? I hope you don't mind but I kind of want to climb into bed with him and hold him close."

"Good," Nancy replied as she returned the hug just as tightly. "Mycroft and I will take the children, so you can have some time alone with each other. I am told I have a grandson now and from what I understand the boy is in need of some lessons in manners. Just leave it Grandma. Holmes propriety is important."

Right, they had adopted Thomas. "Of course, Mrs. Holmes." John smiled and moved back to the room, opening the door slowly. Mycroft grinned a bit and rocked Amy in his arms, watching his brother-in-law climb gently into Sherlock's bed. "Hello," John whispered gently as he pressed their foreheads together and ran a hand through his husband's hair. God, he was already starting to look better. "I love you."

"Nancy," she corrected automatically. Nancy smiled at Sherlock when they entered the room. She took Thomas by the hand who protested but was silenced by a look only a mother could give.

Sherlock smirked as he watched his mother with Thomas and then looked over to John. He snuggled into his husband immediately. "Is everything all right?" He had been a bit worried when his Mum had asked to speak with John.

"Your Mum isn't too happy with me but we are good," John whispered as he closed his eyes for a moment. "I have got a few more television interviews. I think she should just do them." He laughed a bit and gently met his husband's lips. After all of that he really needed comfort and closeness that only Sherlock could offer. "I love you. I love you," he whispered desperately against his husband's lips.

Right. Sherlock supposed that should be expected. "If you really want her to, I am sure she would." He continued to nuzzle into John. "I love you too. Can we stay like this for awhile?" He could stay snuggled next to his husband like this the rest of the time in the hospital and be happy.

John nodded and took several deep breaths. He needed to be calm because getting all worked up would only lead to an erection and then he would have a problem. "Of course we can," he replied with a small yawn. Maybe he was exhausted. That interview and the talk with Nancy had really taken it out of him. "How are you feeling, dear?" He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

"Better, I think. I'm not tired all the time anymore. The doctor wants me to get up and move around some after dinner. He told me a nurse would have to help me but I volunteered you instead." Sherlock tilted his head to smirk at John and then placed a quick kiss on his husband's cheek.

John smirked a bit and shook his head. "Me? That is a lot of pressure," he whispered as he pressed their noses together. "But that means I am one step closer to shagging you," he said lowly. "To pressing you into our mattress..." He gave his husband a gentle kiss. "And being inside of you." His to guess darted out to run across Sherlock's bottom lip.

Sherlock whimpered at the thought and he couldn't stop himself from rolling over to be on top of John, his hips pressing into the man below him automatically. "God, I want you now." He brought their lips together, his tongue moving to explore his husband's mouth in earnest. He pressed into John again, moaning into his partner's mouth.

There went John's lack of self control. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's torso and he lifted his hips up. "Now. Can we? Oh God, now..." He sucked at his husband's tongue and tugged at the gown with a breathy moan. "Hard. Need you." He took Sherlock's bottom lip between his teeth and pulled back with a smirk.

Now? Rough? Somewhere in the back of his mind it occurred to him that it was a bad idea. In about a week's time his lung had collapsed completely five times and in just the last three days he's had surgery that opened up his chest. Right now though, Sherlock didn't care. He moved his lips to John's neck to bite and suck on it hard. He gave a growl of excitement and he pressed his growing erection against his husband's stomach.

That was certainly a yes. John grinned and licked his lips. "Slow. Going to go very slow. You sit here, I'll push up into you." He started to undo his uniform jacket and let out a small moan. Good, the table was near them and there was petroleum jelly. "If you need to stop then t-tell me. God, Sherlock. I want you." He reached behind his husband and slowly pressed the tip of his finger into Sherlock's entrance.

Yes, oh God yes this was going to happen. Sherlock nodded slightly, too busy still sucking on John's neck. He moaned into his husband's skin, his erection throbbing now and still pressing eagerly against the man below him. The heart monitor started beeping. Right, a nurse had plugged it back in and he had gotten an earful about unplugging it from the doctor. He reached blinding and pulled the cord. There. Much better. Now where was he? Oh yes, marking John's neck.

John ripped at his jacket, sitting up fully and tossing it on the floor. "Good?" He reached a hand up and tugged at his husband's hair as he arched up to pinch Sherlock's erection between their stomachs. "Love you." He reached between them and grabbed his partner's cock, giving it a slight stroke before using his other hand to open the petroleum jelly. "Love you," he repeated as he slicked his fingers and used two fingers to start preparing Sherlock.

Sherlock merely nodded. There was no time for talking. A nurse or doctor could come in and ruin everything at any moment. He moaned again, stifling the noise by biting his bottom lip. He needed to keep his growls and moans muffled so he began nibbling on John's ear. God, his husband was stroking him and inside him with fingers. "Love you too," he breathed belatedly into John's ear.

After spending a bit of time preparing Sherlock, John slicked his cock and gently grabbed his husband's hips. "I love you. I love you." He turned his head to breathe heavily into his partner's ear before slowly entering him. Damn, he had missed that. The feeling of Sherlock around him. "Fuck." He nearly choked on the words and thrust slowly up into his husband. Perfect. This was perfect.

Sherlock moaned into John's ear the moment his husband had entered. God, he had missed shagging. Hand jobs and blow jobs were fine, but this was amazing.

At that moment Nancy opened the door. "Oh! I didn't know you were...Thomas don't look!"

"They kissing all weird again?" Thomas asked while trying to peek inside.

Sherlock paused all movement and then he heard the door shut quickly.

John was so focused on the sensation that the moment he saw Nancy he kept moving, not realizing what was going on until Sherlock froze. Shit. No. Oh God. He looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, breathing hard. His mother-in-law just caught then shagging. Literally saw everything. "I... think I just lost my erection. Oh my God."

Sherlock whimpered, maybe he could coax John back into the mood. He had been wanting to shag awhile now, and his erection was still pressed against his husband. He didn't care that his mother had just walked in on them. He resumed lavishing John's ear with his tongue, pleading into it. "Please? God I need you."

Sherlock was still turned on? How in the world? Jesus, his mother has just walked in! "Yeah. Right." He took a deep breath and his husband a little closer and thrust up with a small grunt. "Fuck. T-Trying," he whimpered and ran his nails down Sherlock's back. If this was for his husband then he would do his best. "Is she going to be o-okay?"

Sherlock growled, but not from excitement. He was frustrated. He sighed and rolled off of John. Was it selfish and wrong to want to pout like a child right now? "I don't know, you would have to ask her," he grumbled. He wasn't mad at his husband or even his mother for that matter. He was pissed off that he had been looking forward to rough, hard shagging on the island and never got it. Hell, they hadn't shagged _period_. He sighed at his thoughts, his eyes closing.

John groaned loudly at the loss of Sherlock's warmth, wincing as he cock slapped back against his lower stomach. Damn it. He had done something, he was sure of it. "Sorry," he whispered as he moved to sit up. God, he'd tried to make him happy and now they were probably going to fight. Even though Sherlock was still hard. "Do you want me to leave?" He asked softly as he glanced over his shoulder.

The question had surprised Sherlock. "What? No. Of course not." He let out another sigh as his eyes opened. He turned to look at John. "Not mad at you. Just frustrated. We were supposed to shag on the island and obviously that didn't work out. And now doesn't seem to be working either. I just want my husband. I want you Love." By the time he had finished speaking he had rolled toward John and pressed his head into his husband's shoulder.

"You will have me back soon. A door with a lock, a massive bed." John smiled and turned to run a hand through Sherlock's hair. So it wasn't him? That was always a relief, the fact that they weren't fighting. "I was trying but I didn't want to hurt you. You are still healing." He placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "I promise that when you are ready I wall shag you so hard into our mattress that you won't be able to walk." He bit his bottom lip and shifted to try and hide his erection.

God, John just talking about it was enough to make Sherlock whimper into his husbands skin. He was quiet a moment. He lifted his head to look up at John. "Do you have any sexual fantasies you want to try?" He had been thinking about on and off while on the honeymoon and after but it wasn't until now that he had finally asked his husband about it.

Fantasy? John looked down at Sherlock for a moment and blushed. Oh. Should he tell his husband? "Y-You can't..." He closed his eyes and cleared his throat. "Sherlock, don't you dare judge a-and I am not saying we have to do it, all right? Just...no judging, yeah?" The blush on his cheeks was a deep red and it was spreading rapidly to his ears.

This got his attention immediately and Sherlock shifted to a sitting position. "What? Tell me?" He was excited now and he wanted to know every single detail. Whatever it was, they were going to try it damn it. He thought his were kind of boring. Not really exciting or creative as some of the other things they had already tried.

"R-Right. So, you are at a crime scene." John took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Was he really telling this to his husband? "And some young PC is b-bugging you, and that's m-me..." He sat up a bit and glanced at Sherlock. Shit. He was actually doing this. "And he is annoying so you handcuff 'im- well, me, obviously. Hands behind his back. But he won't shut up, or-or _I_ won't shut up so y-you..." He took a deep breath and licked his lips. "You fuck my mouth. Pull my hair, gag me... use me..." His voice dropped to a slight whisper and he finally held Sherlock's gaze.

"Oh God, John. We are doing that." Sherlock moved to straddle his husband again, his erection was so hard he could feel the blood pulsating. He pressed it into the man below him with a small whimper. He began kissing John, it was a bit sloppy and aggressive. He paused, panting their foreheads pressed together. "I love you. You always have such amazing ideas. The role play the first night of our honeymoon...the alley...God...how did I get so lucky to find someone with such a wonderful imagination?"

Good? Sherlock liked it? John smiled sheepishly, pressing up into his husband for a moment. "Oh. Yes. O-Okay." He licked his lips and nodded. "Good. That's good, right?" He looked between them to study Sherlock's cock. "Just like your dick in my mouth, like you being rough," he admitted before reaching between them and running his fingers gently up his husband's penis. "Want to shag me?" He moved his eyes slowly and smiled.

"More than good. It is brilliant. Amazing. I can't wait." Sherlock shuddered and whimpered from John's touch. The answer was most assuredly yes, but he had waited this long. He could wait a bit longer, he supposed. His body had enough setbacks in healing already and the sooner he recovered the quicker he could leave. "Just get me off?" That would have to do for now.

John smiled and moved to gently roll them the best he could in the small bed, settling for having Sherlock on his side with his back pressed against the small railing on the side. "I can do that," he whispered before bending his legs and scooting down the bed to gently take his husband's cock into his mouth. He moved both of his hands to pin Sherlock's hips in place as he started to bob his head.

Sherlock followed John's movements, but he wasn't sure why moving was needed for a hand job. Oh. He moaned as soon as he felt his husband mouth around his penis. It wasn't what he was expecting but it was a nice surprise. He tried not to squirm too much, his fingers tangling up in the sheets below him in no time.

If anything really made John smile it was hearing Sherlock make noises like _that_. He sucked a bit before moving his head faster, exhaling loudly through his nose before he paused. Deep breath. He looked up at Sherlock before taking the man's entire cock into his mouth with ease, his eyes closing before he slowly pulled away. He repeated the action with a bit more confidence but this time didn't pull back.

"John…" Sherlock trailed off with a moan and he had to bit his bottom lip so it wouldn't be too loud. Last thing they needed was another interruption right now. He whimpered through his teeth meshing on his lip. "Yes…" He managed to get another word out. His eyes closed and the fingers tangled in the sheets gripped tighter into the fabric.

There it was. His name in a moan coming from Sherlock. John pulled back with a small gag before he started bobbing his head quickly, sucking loudly and moaning around his husband's cock at the sound echoing through the room. Who knew there was a perfect room for a blow job? He smirked the best he could and closed his mouth slightly, pulling back as his teeth ran lightly up his husband's penis. Something new.

Oh God. What was this wonderful thing John was doing with his teeth? Sherlock squirmed at the new sensation. "John...'sgood..." He suppressed another moan. His whole body was writhing in pleasure now and he seemed incapable of stopping it. Although, he didn't really want to at this point.

Well, there was something he hadn't expected. Sherlock liked teeth, something he had abhorred when he had been in Uni and the Army. He slowly lowered his mouth before pulling up with his teeth again, a bit thankful for the slow pace so he could attempt to catch his breath. After several deep breaths he started bobbing his head as fast as he could manage.

Sherlock was enjoying every moment and the new sensation. As long as no actual biting was involved he didn't mind one bit. It was sensitive and prickly sure, but he found the feeling exciting. He moaned John's name again as he came, his body tense for a few moment before finally going limp. "...'smazing..." He managed to slur out between panting breaths.

John swallowed easily and slowly pulled his head away. When had that become so exhausting? He bit his bottom lip, looking up at his husband for a long moment, and let his head head drop on to Sherlock's thigh. "Good," he muttered as his eyes closed slowly. "Good," he repeated before he moved his head to find the most comfortable spot on his husband's thigh and then fell asleep.

"Mum... might be ruined for life," Mycroft muttered as he slowly opened the door, rocking a sleeping Amy in his arms.

Sherlock smirked down at John and was about ready to fall asleep himself when he heard Mycroft come in. He shrugged at his older brother. He moved a hand to run through his husband's hair lightly. "Mum did good on the telly. You think she should do the rest? Or would that make John look bad to everyone else, you think?"

"Hard to tell." Mycroft moved forward and used Sherlock's gown to cover him, careful to keep the fabric away from John's face while he slept. "John actually rated pretty well according to some survey's done but the problem with him is his past. Army. People think he will be naturally aggressive because of it and that is why he hurt you, why men shouldn't marry." He stepped back and looked down at John. "But he stood up for you and pushed back a bit. Maria didn't do as well, especially after what Mum said." He lifted his gaze from where John was snoring slightly against Sherlock's thigh to meet his younger brother's gaze. "Both, perhaps?"

Sherlock nodded slowly. Usually he would have no trouble following what was said, but he was worn out from today. He hadn't let John known that interview worried and stressed him out a bit. He was still weak, even though he was telling everyone he was getting better. He was, he didn't get tired as often. And shit, he still had to walk around tonight sometime. He was certainly going to need a nap to have the energy for that. He finally answered Mycroft verbally. "Yes. That would be good. A united front against a divided one."

John shifted slightly against Sherlock's thigh, mumbling as one hand moved up to clutch at the gown that Mycroft had just moved to cover his husband.

"I will talk to her. She said that they talked and she is doing a bit better about him so I'm not too worried. If they can split time...both talk and Mum can try and stay calm then we should be all right." Mycroft sat down in the chair beside the bed and let his head fall back, his eyes shutting as he sighed. Taking care of Amy had taken it out of him and Lestrade was gone on a case. It had been quite a long day.

Sherlock nodded again, letting his eyes slip closed. "Think we all need a nap," he muttered, more to himself than to Mycroft. He shifted a bit, trying to get a little more comfortable. The hand in John's hair stilled as his breathing evened out and his body relaxed. He was able to sleep peacefully, without waking up to any nightmares. He hadn't had one since his husband had been at his side.

John shifted slightly, his face scrunching a bit as he tried to figure out where he was. The pillow beneath him was hard, warm... had some hair. He groaned and lifted his head. Oh. Sherlock's thigh. He had...sucked his husband off and literally fallen asleep when he had finished. At least Sherlock had enjoyed it, he was asleep and looked content. He stretched a bit and moved up the bed to curl into his husband's side, resting his head on his husband's chest and letting his arm rest across the man's stomach. Hell, even Mycroft and Amy were asleep. "Sleep well," he whispered, placing a kiss on Sherlock's ribs before watching him sleep.

Sherlock mumbled, "I love you," to John when he felt his husband snuggle up to him. An arm wrapped around his partner before he drifted back into fitful slumber. He slept for a couple more hours, groaning as he woke back up. His chest was hurting a bit, but that was probably due to the lack of pain medication rather than any real stress on his part. Other than that he was feeling better. He smiled down at John. "Hey there Love." He tilted his head down and gave his husband a kiss on the top of the head.

"You look so young when you sleep," John said softly, curling his fingers to scratch gently at his husband's stomach. He had lost a bit if weight since the island, then again, so had John. But Sherlock was small anyway. "I love watching you sleep because it doesn't happen much. You are fantastic." He turned his head and placed another kiss on his husband's chest. "First time I have ever fallen asleep with a hard on," he admitted with a blush.

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Guess I wore you out." The arm around John tightened a bit in a small hug. "Well, you are going to see another rare thing, me eating. Christ, I'm starving." He had refused food since waking up from the second surgery. He had been getting nutrients and a saline solution but those weren't really that filling. The last time he'd eaten solid food was the grapes and almonds on the island.

"Most shocking day of my life," John whispered with a fake gasp as he twisted and pressed the call button for Sherlock's nurse. "Two lunches," he said with a warm smile to the slightly older woman. She returned several minutes later with two trays. Turkey sandwiches, Jell-O, a cup of mixed fruit, and a small carton of orange juice. "I am so damn hungry." He shifted slightly, making sure to keep Sherlock's arm around him, and eagerly tore the wrapping off of the sandwich. "So damn hungry," he muttered as he took a large bite from the sandwich and groaned.

Sherlock smirked again. "Love, I am going to need my other arm." He leaned over and placed a soft kiss against John's head. He shifted so they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, before he opened the packaging to the sandwich. He took a bite and after chewing and swallowing he looked at his husband with raised eyebrows. "Haven't you eaten?"

John took another large bite of his sandwich and shook his head, opening the orange juice before drinking half of it. "No," he said around his mouthful of food. "Too busy. Kids, worrying about you." He nodded and licked his lips. "Tried once. Threw it right back up." He ate the cup of fruit in one massive gulp, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. "Made Thomas eat, though. Fed Amy some food, likes those bananas in the little glass baby foods." He shrugged and slurped the Jell-O.

Sherlock frowned a bit but nodded. It quickly twisted into a smirk. "Don't let Thomas see you eat like that, or he will think it is okay." He took another bite of the sandwich; not nearly in the rush John seemed to be in. "Already? Is that okay? Not too soon? Is she off formula then?" Just another prime example of him not knowing anything about being parent, despite all the reading and research he had done.

"Already saw us shagging." John smirked back at his husband and sat back when he finished his meal, hiccuping and looking around the room. "She is nearly five months so your Mum started her on the baby food. It's all mashed up, y'know? Like it was all put in a blender. Loves it." He shrugged and let his head fall to the side and rest on his husband's shoulder. "She's grown so much, Sherlock. She looks at me and smiles. It is amazing." He smiled and turned to place a gentle kiss on his partner's neck. "Food bill is about to go up, she eats quite a bit according to your Mum."

Sherlock nodded a bit. "That's good though, right? Means she's growing?" He didn't care about the bill, as long as little Sandi was healthy and safe. He had finished half his sandwich, opened the fruit and ate it next. He washed it down with a large drink from the orange juice carton. It didn't take long to finish the small cup of fruit and he tackled the Jell-O next.

"Yep. Growing and very healthy. And, I am sorry to say, looking more and more like a Watson each time I see her." John laughed a little and moved his tray off of the bed. It was crazy how fast their daughter was growing. It felt like she had just been born. Then again, he'd been gone so much between Afghanistan and then the honeymoon. "She is a little piece of you, though. She stares. Eyes a bit narrowed, completely still. Sort of creepy from a little kid." He reached over and gently pulled Sherlock's head to the side to place a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Wish she could be as smart as you, too."

Sherlock paused in chewing to still his cheek so John could kiss it. He was working on the last of the sandwich. "Mycroft says she does that too." He gave a small smirk and a shrug. "She is just observant, that's good. She will probably be a quick learner. Never too soon to start teaching her things. Start early but you just have to make sure you keep pace with her learning ability. Too fast, she'll get frustrated. Too slow, she'll get bored."

"Mycroft wants to put them both in a private school," John mentioned, clearly waiting to see what Sherlock had to say about it. Not traditional to him, really, but certainly safer than a public school. That was what Sherlock was worried about, right? Keeping both their kids safe? "I mean, I wouldn't mind. It would be good for both of them. Higher education...it will be good." He licked his lips and sighed. Raising children was harder than he thought.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit. "Well, when he adopts he can decide what to do with his child. The decision is ours, not his." It annoyed him enough that Mycroft tried to tell him what to do but damn it, his older brother wasn't going to tell him how to be a father to his children. "We both went to one and Thomas needs to go to place where discipline will happen. I hated being in a private school, but then I hated school period so..." He shrugged a bit then added, "It isn't something we have to decide right now, Love. Unless you want to discuss it now we can." He leaned over and kissed the top his husband's head.

"I don't know." John glanced up at his husband and shrugged. "I mean, I think it would be good. We do have a few years for Amy but Thomas, he is five. Right time for him to start primary school." Maybe later they could talk. Right now he was more content to go ahead and snuggle against Sherlock, something he didn't get to do often. "I was thinking, while you were asleep, that...that I want to hear one of your fantasies. Is that all right?"

Sherlock nodded and then smirked. "They aren't very exciting. I want to shag you against the window. Me pressing your back into the window, with your legs wrapped around my waist. My hand prints smeared all over it because I am pounding you so hard, I need it for support. That's what I was thinking about when I ran into the sandbar."

_That_ wasn't exciting? It must have been wonderful enough to think about because it led to them hitting the sandbar in the first place. "I like the sound of that," he whispered with a shy smile. The idea of them being caught, of people seeing all of it...it sounded wonderful. "Which shall we do first then? Mine or yours?" He shifted to give his husband a slow kiss, sucking at Sherlock's bottom lip teasingly.

Sherlock whimpered as he returned the kiss. "I have wanted to do it for awhile now. Over a year," he admitted with a slight shrug. "We've talked about shagging against the window before but something always ends up happening to stop it. It can wait a bit more. Besides yours sounds more exciting than mine does." He smirked at John and resumed kissing his husband.

John's silly fantasy was better than a rough shag against the window of their flat? He gently pulled away from the kiss and studied his husband. "Do you have another? Something you really like?" Because he was determine to make this up to his husband. If it meant being shagged so many times he couldn't walk for the rest of his life, then he would do it. "Tell me...I want to make you happy." He lowered his mouth to suck at Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Being with you makes me happy Love." He whimpered quietly and tilted his head for John. "I have another in mind, but I want it to wait until we do the other two." He smirked deviously, reaching up a hand to run through John's hair.

John growled against his husband's skin and shook his head the best he could. "Tell me," he whispered as he nipped at the skin below his mouth. That was teasing, just holding it over his head. God, he wanted to know. And now he was getting hard. He shifted to hide it, sucking harder on Sherlock's neck. "Please," he begged as his hips pressed into the mattress with a small squeak from the bed.

"And if I don't Captain Watson? What then Love? Will there be consequences? Because I might like them." Sherlock leaned toward John, turning his head so he could kiss his husband on the lips. He was about to straddle John when he heard the door open.


	19. Chapter 19

Author's Note:

The chapter after this is one my favorite, but for now here is a little more drama.

* * *

"Ahem." It was the doctor. "You two are causing quite the stir in the hospital. The hospital board met and they want Mister Holmes removed from their facility. I argued he wasn't safe to fly, so they have arranged for him to travel by train to France and then take Chunnel back to Britain. I am sorry but he will be discharged sometime today."

John pulled away nervously but before he had time to get flustered and embarrassed he was on his feet, pulling on the jacket to his uniform. "Excuse me?" He looked at the doctor and shook his head with a small huff of a laugh, forced and sarcastic. "Causing a stir? Because some woman in London doesn't know what she is talking about? I want to speak to the board, then. Are we causing problems? No, we are in a personal room! He still needs time to rest. I'm a doctor and I know that you need to keep him here until he is healed. Period." His hands were curled into fists at his side and he was approaching the doctor swiftly with a raising voice.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at what the doctor said and he was about to say something but John was already out of bed and in the doctor's face. He couldn't help but smirk proudly at his husband.

The doctor sighed and shrugged. "I agree with you Doctor Watson. Mrs. Holmes has already spoken to the board and didn't get anywhere. I think she intends to sue the hospital but the board doesn't seem to care. The publicity is hurting the hospital they said and they couldn't afford it. I'm sorry. I even tried finding another hospital here to take you and no one would. I really am sorry, there is nothing more I can do."

"Then we aren't leaving," John said lowly, glancing back at his husband with strong defiance in his eyes. "My husband will get better before I drag him around on some train back to London because your stupid hospital is worried about their publicity. We have done nothing wrong. Please, Sir, tell me what I have done wrong! Don't you dare _take_ this out on my husband. That woman is the one giving you a negative image!"

"It isn't my call and I think it's terrible idea. So, don't take it out on me! They plan on having hospital security escort you out. The board doesn't like you Doctor Watson and since the police didn't arrest you, they are basically kicking you out. I'm sorry. Don't make things worse. He will need someone to look after him on the train. Don't give them a reason to put you jail Sir."

Sherlock glanced over to Mycroft and little Sandi, wondering how those two were sleeping with the current heated argument going on.

The words slipped out of John's mouth before he had time to think about them. "If the police arrest me then can he stay?" He didn't look back at Sherlock because he knew he couldn't handle the pain he would see there. "It's me they are upset with, not him. I was the one who did it all. If I go with them, can Sherlock stay? He is not even healthy enough to take a train. Sitting up is a struggle for him. Making him leave the hospital is a death sentence, you and I both know that." He was desperate now, fighting like Hell to keep his husband alive.

"John, no!" Like hell his husband was going to go to jail. "I'll go. It will be fine." Sherlock was breathing heavily already, ignoring the pains his chest. He couldn't let this happen.

The doctor hesitated. "I'm not sure. Maybe. I will see what I can do." He gave John a sympathetic smile and frowned when he noticed his patient have troubling breathing. "Mister Holmes, what have I told you about unplugging your heart monitor?" He walked around John briskly to attend to Sherlock.

John dropped his head and closed his eyes, swallowing hard in an attempt to calm himself down. He had to go because if he didn't Sherlock wouldn't even make the train ride. God, he just needed to save his husband. This would look better for the press, wouldn't it? Going off to save his husband, to keep him alive. It was going to end up working out. Mycroft could probably help him.

"I will see what I can do," Mycroft said softly, making John jump a bit. "If you are really going to go to keep Sherlock here then I'll make sure you're out before the end of the night." He walked by his brother-in-law with Amy in his arms, already on his mobile.

Once Sherlock was stable the doctor left the room as well. He was quiet a moment, eye closed in thought. He wanted to be a child and beg John to stay. His husband had promised not to leave him. He sighed at his thoughts. "Come lay with until you have to go at least?" He didn't care that he sounded like a pleading child.

John turned slowly to look at his husband, taking several deep breaths in order to calm himself down. He was doing this to save Sherlock. He knew he had promised to stay but right now keeping his husband alive was the most important thing in his life. "Of course," he whispered, stepping forward and gently climbing on to the bed. He pulled Sherlock against him as tightly as he could. "We will wait for the doctor to come back. If it doesn't work and you have to leave then...then we'll figure something out, yeah?" He placed a kiss in his husband's unruly hair and choked on a sob. "Don't hate me. I am just trying to save you."

Sherlock nuzzled into John, his head rest against his husband's chest. "I don't hate you Love." He turned his head to give John a kiss. "What if, you get arrested and then they make me leave anyway? I can't go back to London...not without you..." He didn't want to admit but he was scared. What if John got stuck in Spain and on the way back home he died on some train? Alone.

"Do you really think they are going to kick you out with your Mum and Mycroft here?" John managed a smile for the sake of his husband. "I am fairly sure that if they promise to keep you here, your family will guarantee it." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "I promise that they will keep you here and I'm already working with Mycroft. I'll be back by tonight. Get arrested, improve the image." He grinned and pressed his nose against his husband's forehead. "Save you. All in a day's work, really."

Sherlock nodded a little. He had to stay strong for his husband. "You are right. Everything will be fine." Except John was going to prison. It didn't matter to him that his husband would be out by the evening. John shouldn't have to go period. "I hate all of this," he admitted with a pout. His bottom lip puckered out as he buried his face into his husband's chest.

"I know but it will all be over soon," John whispered as he slammed his eyes shut. No crying. He needed to be strong right now and keep Sherlock from worrying. "Just know this is all for you, yeah? I am doing this to keep you safe and I _will_ come back. I'm not leaving you, Sherlock," his voice caught and he cleared his throat. Now the waiting was just twisting his stomach. God, he hated this too.

Sherlock nodded, keeping quiet for now. He turned his head when the door opened.

Nancy walked in with Thomas holding her hand. "Sherlock can stay. John...you are a good man. Thank you. Just you wait boys, if they think they look bad now they are going to look worse by the time I am done talking to the media." She nodded at her words with a small smile.

Thomas nodded enthusiastically. "Gran'ma gonna show 'em who's boss!" He grinned up at his dads. He looked up at Nancy with wide eyes. "I see Daddy now? Please Gran'ma?"

She smiled down at the boy. "Of course. Just be careful, all right?"

Thomas nodded solemnly. "Yes ma'am." He let go of Nancy's hand and calmly climbed onto the bed, curling up next to Sherlock's feet.

So did that mean John needed to get ready to go? He pulled away from Sherlock slowly, smiling weakly and gently meeting his lips. "Just a few hours," he whispered. "Think about shagging me against the window and I will be back before you know it." He swallowed hard and slid off of the bed. Now all he had to do was look at Nancy without blushing. "I've talked with Mycroft a-and hopefully I will be back by the end of the night. Can you keep him positive? The last thing we need is him getting depressed."

Sherlock smirked at John a bit. If he did that he was certain he would get a hard on. He arched his brows at what his husband said to his mother. "I'm sitting right here you know," he muttered with a pout.

Thomas furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at John. "Is dat what you and daddy was doing earlier in bed when we walked in?"

Nancy gave a small nod. "I will have Mycroft bring Amy in and I am sure the kids will keep him entertained."

"Still able to hear you! Quit talking about me like I'm not here!" Sherlock sighed. Right. Of course he would start a fight before John went to jail.

John turned and glanced at his husband with a knowing smile. "Oi, if I said it to you, you would argue with me." He forced a smile and glanced at Thomas. A few hours. Just a few hours to appease the hospital. To keep Sherlock alive. It was nothing. He took a deep breath and moved back to his husband. "Stay positive. Don't get depressed. I am coming back." He moved and gave Sherlock a slow kiss, pulling away to look back at his mother-in-law.

"Captain Watson," a young police officer entered the room, reaching behind him to grab his handcuffs. "Sir," he glanced at Sherlock and the rest of the family before taking a deep breath. John stood slowly, facing Sherlock as he put his hands behind his back and the young man cuffed him.

"I'll be back, okay? I'll be back." John held Sherlock's gaze before he was yanked around by his wrists and led out the door.

Sherlock forced a smile an nodded. "I know Love. It won't be long and I will see you again"

"Dad!" Thomas yelled and scrambled to get off the bed.

With a grunt Sherlock sat forward and grabbed Thomas by the shirt and pulled him back. He ignored the sharp pain the sudden movement caused. He held onto the boy tightly, not sure if it was for comfort or to keep Thomas in place. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on breathing.

Mycroft entered and tensed as Amy started to cry because of the commotion in the room. He started to rock her in his arms, looking at Sherlock for a long moment. Despite the situation, John had proved that he did love Sherlock. He would gone to jail for the man to make sure he stayed in the hospital. "Sherlock...I'm sorry," he said softly as he moved toward the bed and put an arm around Thomas. "I'm sorry."

Sherlock nodded. He just wanted to be alone right now, but he somehow doubted that would happen. He kept his eyes closed hoping sleep would find him but his mind was much too active for him to do so. He sighed and finally loosened his grip on Thomas. The boy crawled up next to him and Thomas buried his head into his side. "Everything will be fine T.C. Dad will be back soon." He finally opened his eyes and managed a weak smile to the boy.

The media frenzy outside of the hospital was weird, a rush. John kept his head down as he got into the car. The rest was a blur. Processing, being thrown in a cell. But, as promised, a few hours later he was released. The news station as he left the jail said 'not enough information' and he just smirked. Mycroft had a way with words. God, the man was amazing. He got into the ever-waiting black car and watched everything pass around him before they pulled up to the hospital. After answering a few questions he moved into his husband's room slowly, thankful that his telly was turned off.

Sherlock managed to drift off to sleep eventually but he was jolted awake almost immediately by a nightmare. He growled at the heart monitor, which only made it beep faster and louder. A nurse rushed in and he waved her off. His mother was off doing a press conference and Mycroft had gone to take the children to get dinner. He was still alone when John entered. His heart rate was back to normal by then, and he was staring at the ceiling trying not to think at all. A genuine smile touched his lips when he saw his husband in the room. "Hey Love, I have missed you."

"I missed you, too," John replied with a large, foolish grin. "Oh, God, I missed you so much." He moved toward the bed, crawling into it with care before straddling Sherlock. No need to tell him how awful it all was, how scared he had really been when he had left the room. Protecting Sherlock and keeping him healthy was so important that none of it mattered. "I'm back." He placed his hands on either side of his husband's head and looked down at him proudly. Maybe now Nancy wouldn't hate him so much. "I'm all over the news. Good stuff, really. Me going to jail to save you, how wonderful our marriage clearly is." His smile was warm now, eyes holding the emotion he didn't care to talk about it.

Sherlock managed a smirk. "As much as I love it when you straddle me, do you think you could just lay next to me instead?" John would understand, right? Just another constant reminder how weak he really was still. "Good, that's good. Maybe they will leave us the hell alone now. While you were gone, a board member came in to apologize to me personally and assured me I was allowed to stay as long as possible."

John flushed and nodded, slowly moving off of Sherlock to make sure he didn't injure the man beneath him. "Y-Yeah, sorry, didn't mean to..." He cleared this throat and moved to lay next to his husband. His eyes shut for a moment and he couldn't help but grin. So Nancy had gotten to them? He grinned. That must have been Hell. "I'm glad." He pressed their foreheads together and held Sherlock's gaze for a long moment. "I am never going to hurt you again, all right? Ever. I don't care if you are provoking me or anything. I'm...I'm going to keep you safe for the rest of my life."

"What happened was a freak accident John. I don't blame you for what happened. We were both at fault. Besides, you still owe me a very rough shagging." Sherlock smirked as he scooted closer to his husband, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder. He found his husband's hand and he intertwined their fingers. "I love you."

"I love you too," John replied as he looked down at their hands, turning them slightly before looking back at his husband. "I could have prevented it if I weren't being an idiot. I am going to blame myself for what happened and I'm going to take the consequences as they come to me. This media frenzy...it is my fault. If I hadn't taken you down then you would be fine and we'd be home. I just...I need to hear you say it..." He used his free hand to tilt Sherlock's head up. "Please forgive me. I don't care if you don't blame me for anything, I just need to hear it."

Sherlock lifted his head so he could gaze into John's eyes. "Of course I forgive you Love." He forced himself to sit up slightly so he could reach his husband's lips. He had planned on just a quick kiss, but his lips lingered and his tongue moved to explore John's mouth. It took extra effort but he breathed through his nose instead of taking the time to break the kiss.

That was certainly the most believable thing John had ever heard. He eagerly returned the kiss before pulling away with a small gasp, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Rest. I know they said you could stay here but I am sick of them. Want you to get better." He gave his husband a quick kiss before pulling Sherlock against him. "Jail is exhausting. Do you mind if I sleep for a bit?" He ran a hand through his husband's hair slowly.

Sherlock smirked, sliding back down so his head could rest on John's shoulder again. "I suppose I will allow it but only if I get to stay snuggled in next to you." The smirk broadened and he turned his head to give his husband a kiss on the neck. "I will probably sleep too. Didn't get any while you were gone and this day has exhausted me as well."

"Husband nap?" John said softly as he pressed himself tightly against Sherlock. "Get better," he muttered before he yawned and let his eyes close. "Get better," he repeated before finally falling asleep.

Sherlock fell asleep shortly after John, and was able to stay sleeping without any interruptions from nightmares.

Mycroft moved into the room as silently as possible, watching the two of them intently. The media storm was horrid but right here, in the small little room, they could remain as ignorant as possible to it. Giving them time to rest would be best before they got to London. He looked down at Amy, smiled, and sat down in the chair beside the bed.

Nancy walked in with Thomas and she walked over to Mycroft. She was tired. She hadn't slept or really eaten since arriving at the hospital. She spoke quietly to her oldest son, "I have booked rooms at a hotel nearby. You can stay with me there if you want. A real bed, and you won't have to eat hospital food." She gave a small smile.

"That sounds wonderful. I assume we will be taking the children? Don't want a repeat of earlier this afternoon." Mycroft smirked and looked down at Amy. Still asleep, curled against his chest. Just a few more days, he hoped, and they would be back in London. That media attention would be horrible. "Do you think it is going to get any better for them?"

Nancy smiled. "Of course we will be taking the children. The boys need their rest. Sherlock needs to get better so we can get the hell out of this horrible hospital." She was quiet a thoughtful moment. "I don't know dear, maybe. I sure hope so. They deserve that, don't you think? After everything they have been through."

Mycroft stood slowly and winced slightly when John shifted, inhaling sharply and looking down at Sherlock. "The media in London is going to get worse. I just...God, I'm...worried..."

"I can hear you," John muttered tiredly, clearing his throat and looking at his family over his shoulder. "Just don't let him know. I am going to take care of the media." He yawned and put his back to them again, holding Sherlock close in the most protective manner possible.

"How far away is the hotel, Mum? It's about time for Amy to wake up and have a bit of a play time." Mycroft rocked the child in his arms.

Nancy glanced over to John and Sherlock briefly, worry evident in her eyes. If Siger was alive she was certain things would already be fixed. He was always good at that kind of thing. She glanced back to Mycroft. "It isn't far. Less than a mile. Thomas is getting a little restless as well. After I have rested a bit, I plan on taking him shopping."

Thomas had been quiet until he hear his name and shopping together. "Yay! I get toys mebbe? Lotsa of 'em? Please Gran'ma? Pleaaaaase?" He tugged at her hand, staring up at Nancy with wide eyes.

"Why don't I go with you? Amy could use some new clothes and shoes. New toys." Mycroft smiled as he left the room slowly. "Spoil the kids while we can. When Sherlock finds out he will get upset." He laughed a bit and held Amy closer.

"Nancy," John looked over his shoulder for a moment and smiled tiredly. "Thank you. You are wonderful." He let his hand run through his husband's hair and whispered something in his ear. Stay close. Comfort him. "Sherlock, I love you," he muttered before gently meeting Sherlock's lips. Who cared if he was asleep? Hell, sleepy kisses were the best. Maybe it would wake his husband up.

Nancy glanced down at Thomas. "You can get a few toys, but only if you are good." She glanced over to John with smile. "Just take care of my baby boy for me." She left the room with Mycroft. "That would be wonderful dear."

Sherlock groaned. He had heard talking but he had been trying to ignore it. Was that a kiss? John? He wanted to keep sleeping but he forced his eyes open anyway. "Hey," he mumbled sleepily.

"Just wanted to kiss you," John whispered with a sheepish smile. "Go back to sleep, you need your rest." He gave his husband another quick kiss and licked his lips. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, aren't I? Need to learn to keep my hands off you." If he ever wanted Nancy's respect again he would have to make sure Sherlock got healthy. Certainly no more shagging in the hospital. He'd have to toss off in the private bathroom and just think about his husband. "Go to sleep."

"Awake now." Sherlock stretched out his legs as best he could. "I am supposed to walk around before I sleep tonight. I didn't do it while you were gone…" He shrugged. He hadn't done it yesterday either, because he had fallen asleep. Instead of getting out of bed he snuggled a little closer to John. "I love you."

"I love you too," John smiled and looked around the room. "I could take you to the café on this floor. They have decent tea. Would you like a cuppa?" He looked down at his husband warmly and ran his thumb across Sherlock's bottom lip. "You look a lot better, if it's any consolation. Less pale. How is your chest feeling?" It was a lot of questions but the least he could do was try and keep the man distracted.

Right. Sherlock had only wanted to walk around the room for a bit but he supposed he was just being a baby about it. He needed the exercise, he didn't want his leg muscles to be too apathetic. It would just make walking harder down the road and extra work to get better. Just get it over with now. "That would be good, yeah. I am all right. Feeling better every time I wake up."

"C'mon." John stood up slowly and looked around the room. He was still in his ridiculous uniform. "Give me a few." He grabbed his clothes from a hospital bag in the corner, slowly changing. Might as well give his husband a show. He put his normal clothes on and glanced at Sherlock with a proud smirk. "C'mon dear, let's get you up." He moved forward and grabbed his husband's hand, lifting the knuckles to his mouth and gently nipping at the skin.

Sherlock shifted to a sitting position and began removing wires from his body. He kept the I-V in, figuring he could just pull it with him. He smirked as he watched John undress. He got up slowly, his knees wavering a bit, unused to the weight. Not a surprise really. The last time he had walked was five days, maybe a week? He wasn't sure how much time had gone by since the freak accident on the island. He leaned against his husband for some support.

"Easy there," John whispered softly, holding Sherlock with ease. He was weak himself with a lack of food and sleep but not as bad as his husband. The man's ribs were visible in the worst way. "I have got you." He looked up at Sherlock with a small smile and wrapped his arm around the man's waist. "It is just down the hall but if you get tired and need to stop, tell me." He turned his head and placed a soft kiss against Sherlock's neck. "Off we go then." He opened the door to the room and led his partner into the hallway slowly.

Sherlock nodded a bit and with his husband's help made it out the door. "Maybe get something to eat?" He hated how shaky he felt on his feet. How weak and pathetic he was, when he needed to be strong for John. How could he do that when he wasn't even strong enough to walk on his own? He was feeling a little winded but he could already see the entrance. He was determined to make it all the way there without having to stop.

John slowed down a bit, studying Sherlock. Too proud to stop, naturally. He smiled and watched the door come closer. "Of course. They have got a big variety. Pancakes with syrup if you're up for it." He smiled and bit his bottom lip, curling the fingers on his hand to gently scratch at his husband's back. "Almost there. You are doing fantastic."

Once they were inside the café, Sherlock stopped to catch his breath. He tried to pretend he was looking at things to eat though. Although, he doubted he fooled John really. "Whatever is fine with me. Just get a me a little bit of everything? Mind if I sit and wait while you order?" He was leaning on his husband for support more than he would like.

"Let me walk you over there," John said softly, leading his husband to a small two person table a few steps away. "I will be right back." He placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's forehead and moved to order. He ordered healthy items, fruit and juice, some vegetables. For his husband's sake he got a single pancake drenched in syrup. He carried it all with a bit of difficulty and let a small waiter carry the two paper cups full of hot tea. "There we go." He sat down and pushed a plate of sliced apples toward Sherlock. "You did really well." He took a sip of tea and popped a grape in his mouth.

Sherlock slumped into the chair gratefully. There better. Sitting and resting. Oh good food. He reached over and began eating the apple slices. He was hungrier than he thought. He was pretty thin though, much thinner than usual that was for sure. "Thank you, Love." He paused from eating and took a sip of the tea.

"Not a problem." John reached across the table and took an apple slice, chewing it slowly. "Oi, slow down a bit." He reached his foot under the table and gently tapped Sherlock's shin. "You'll throw it up." All he wanted to do was take care of his husband and hold him close. "Tea should help settle your stomach, though. We are just going to rest here, all right? Need to let you get everything back together." He reached across the table and took his husband's hand, only pulling away when the sound of the telly reached his ears. There he was, getting led out to the police car. He lowered his gaze and kept it locked on the table.

"Sorry, been spending too much time with Thomas I guess." Sherlock gave John a small smirk. He continued to sip at his tea slowly. God, he had missed tea. He grabbed an apple, taking his time eating it. His eyes narrowed as he glanced up to the telly. He looked back over to his husband, his face softening. With a little effort he managed to move the chair around the table so he was next to John rather than across. He reached out a hand and took his husband's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

John glanced up at Sherlock for a moment and cleared his throat. "Sorry," he muttered, not really sure what he was apologizing for. He could feel some people looking over at him, studying them. Were they on their side? Did they think they had a right to be married? Or did they just view him as a monster? See he and Sherlock as nothing more than abominations? "Sorry," he repeated as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You have nothing to apologize for Love." He didn't care that people were staring. Let them. He leaned over and gave John a kiss on the cheek. "I love you." He squeezed his husband's hand again. He smirked at the idea that came to mind. With his free hand he picked up a piece of fruit and held it to John's lips.

Oh, Sherlock was perfect. John smirked a bit, glancing at his husband and slowly opening his mouth. Defiance? Given the recent media attention to the fact that they were married men, that was exactly what he viewed it as. He took the food into his mouth, lapping at Sherlock's fingers for a moment before leaning forward and gently kissed his husband. "Thanks," he whispered as he pulled away, holding an apple slice up to Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock smiled. "I am your husband it's what I am here for." He ate the apple and then licked the juicy residue off of John's fingers. He picked up his tea and finished drinking it. He could really use another cup. It was nice to drink tea again. He didn't want to bother his husband so he decided not ask. Instead he pulled the plate with the pancake over and began eating it.

John took a final sip of his tea and nodded his head a bit, the small waiter bringing a second cup of tea forward for Sherlock. He muttered a thank you when he noticed the man was staring at them and glancing back at the telly. They were already famous enough because of Sherlock and the blog, but now they seemed to be the poster boys for gay marriage...or for the people against it. He hadn't really decided yet. He wasn't even sure if Sherlock knew how big they were in the news. The man had been trying to get better while John had been out in the world, seen it all. "We are in the middle of quite the massive argument back in our country," he finally muttered.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I figured something like that was going on. My doctor won't let me watch the telly, not that I really want to anyway. Told me it was for my own good and I needed to concentrate on getting better and not what was being said by the media. I am not sure why us being married is anyone's business but I guess it is everyone's now." He sighed with a shrug.

"They know everything," John added softly, looking back at his husband. "I need to tell you something but...you have got to promise not to get mad, all right?" He took a deep, hesitant breath How anybody had found the information was beyond him. Half of him wanted to approach Mycroft about it but the last thing he needed was to start another fight with his husband's family. He swallowed hard and looked up at his husband. "Promise?"

Sherlock stopped eating and looked over to John. That didn't sound good. He scrutinized his husband for a bit trying to figure out what could possibly be coming. "All right. Promise." He nodded, a small frown on his lips. Things like these never ended well so he tried to mentally brace himself for whatever John was about to say to him.


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note:

This is my favorite chapter and not because of the sexy Johnlock stuff at the end. I'm actually pretty damn proud of their conversation about sexuality. I don't know...anyway, hope you like this chapter as much as I do!

* * *

Deep breath. Stay calm. John licked his lips and looked up at the telly. "I don't know how they found it because we covered it up...everybody I was with." He shrugged and set his tea down with a sigh. "My first tour in Iraq I was with a special detail. Didn't do much medical work, I was a soldier. We went into the house, knew they were going to have weapons but...we couldn't find anything. First thought was good hiding, you know? They knew we were going to come, it wasn't a secret." A harsh laugh escaped his mouth and he pushed some of the food away just to have something to do. "So I took the Dad, slammed him against the wall. His wife and kids were screaming, shouting things I couldn't understand. And he kept saying he didn't have anything and I didn't believe him. Nobody did. But I got carried away, too upset," his voice broke. He had never told anybody. Not Jenny when he'd come back, not Harry. Nobody. "And I shot him. I...I _murdered_ him. Right in front of his family. They're using it to say I have a violent past and that I should be locked up so you will be safe."

Oh, well that wasn't as bad as Sherlock thought. He gave a small shrug. Compassion for other human beings had never really been one of his strong suits. "It was war time. You were doing your job to the best of your ability at the time. Shit happens. Why would I get mad about that? The media doesn't know you, the person you are now. They can go fuck themselves for all I care." The only thing he was upset about was how the news spun everything way out of proportion.

Oh. Well, that had been a lot easier than John thought. He smiled a bit and looked at the food. "So you don't mind? The Army covered it up, said I didn't have a choice." All lies but it kept him out of jail at twenty-five. "But they found it. Maria is using it against me. They are doing a really good job of making you look like a victim and me look like a monster, even while half of them think we're both disgusting for being married." It was all just extremely confusing and he never thought they would be plastered all over the news.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "I'm the victim and _you're _the monster? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life. She's the monster. Almost beating her daughter to death? Even before I met you, I would have found a person like her disgusting." But then, child abuse was sore subject for him anyway and any parent who did, he detested with a hatred he possessed for few people.

"Your Mum did quite the job of making sure everybody knew that." John nodded and glanced back at the telly, thankful they had moved on to a different subject. "Not that hard, though. I tackled you, nearly killed you. I have killed before, I'm soldier. It isn't that far of a leap to them. But other people, the ones on our side, they are saying that it was just an accident, they heard your Mum say that you provoked me to save everybody. That I'm a product of my past and being a soldier is the best thing since I'm a veteran, I'm injured. They say we're a wonderful couple, that we deserve each other. So we have people on our side fighting like Hell, people we have never met."

"Well, good for them and us I suppose. It still isn't anyone's business. I would think things would be calmer back home, not more heated. The Holmes have a lot connections and I am going to guess most of them don't want to burn that bridge. Although, with my father dead we have probably lost some clout, I suppose." Sherlock sighed, having lost his appetite. He didn't even want the second cup of tea now.

"I...sorry, I didn't mean to." John sighed and took a deep breath. Of course he had gone and mucked things up, especially while Sherlock had been eating. "Give it a bit and we will be back to solving cases and getting attention for that," he muttered weakly, reaching out to grab an apple slice and hold it against his husband's lips. "Just a little more? Please?" He grinned the best he could, trying to change the mood that their conversation had suddenly taken on.

"Not hungry." Sherlock turned his head away. He wanted to pout and walk away, but with everything they did under a critical eye he resisted the urge to be a child. It would make John look bad and he wasn't going to let that happen. "Can we just go back to the room now, please?" There. He could be civil. It didn't mean he had to like it though.

"I...y-yeah." John glanced at the floor and stood slowly, not looking at Sherlock for a long moment. It was clear he had upset his husband, probably started a fight. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut. "C'mon, love." He offered his hands to Sherlock without meeting his gaze, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth as everybody watched them. So public now. They couldn't fight here.

Sherlock got up and leaned into John. "I'm not mad you," he uttered quietly into his husband's ear so no one else could hear. "I am upset at everything else. This whole damn media thing…it is no one's fucking business is all." He sighed and turned to hug John as tightly as he could manage. He gave his husband a quick kiss and then began walking back to the room.

John smiled and followed after Sherlock, supporting him proudly. "It's none of their business," he stated softly as he squeezed his husband's side. "And they can go fuck themselves if they want to keep getting involved in our lives." He pushed the door to the cafe open rougher than necessary, letting out some of his anger before he did something stupid. "And I swear if they pull Amy into this..." He growled as they moved closer to Sherlock's room.

Sherlock smirked a bit as John shoved open the door. "If they come _near_ our daughter, I will tear someone's throat out," he growled out with narrowed eyes just at the thought. He climbed into the bed with a slight groan. "I know we just left Love, but would you mind bringing the food to the room? In case I want to eat again later? Tired again already though." If he slept enough he would get better faster, hopefully. Then they could leave this stupid hospital and be back home at the flat with their family.

"Hmm? Oh, I... yeah." John cleared his throat, clearly having just been lost in his thoughts. "Of course. Be right back." He smiled a bit and left the room. He returned several minutes later with some of the food, setting it on the table beside his husband's bed. "Love getting stared at. 'S wonderful," he muttered as he set the tea closest to Sherlock. "Had somebody shout 'faggot' at me and the rest of the people just laughed." He tensed for a moment before grabbing the nearly empty plate of grapes and throwing it at the wall.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at what John said. He struggled to get out of bed. "I'll kill them. I swear I will kill someone." Except he didn't get very far. He had to grab the small table with the food on it for support, and overturned the cup of tea. He hissed when the hot tea splashed on his hand, letting go reflexively. He toppled to the side, lucky the bed was there to prevent him from falling all the way on the floor. His heart was racing and he was breathing heavily. Shit. Here came the chest pains.

"Sherlock." John moved forward and instantly moved his husband back into the bed, forcing him to sit up a bit so the air would flow easier to his lungs. "In through your nose out through your mouth," he whispered softly, pressing his forehead against Sherlock's temple. "Calm. You have just got to stay calm, all right? It is fine. Sorry, I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry." He moved a hand to stroke gently at the nape of his husband's neck. "Calm down. Shhh."

Sherlock closed his eyes in effort to help calm down and focus on his breathing. At least he wasn't hooked up to that stupid heart monitor right now. After several deep breaths he managed to get his composure. "I'm fine now Love. Thank you." He opened his eyes and gave John a small smile of reassurance.

John flashed a tight smile at Sherlock because, _shit_, he had been married for a little over half a year. He'd been dating Sherlock for nearly two years. Now was _not_ the time to start having an identity crisis. He had never viewed his relationship as gay, just as...Sherlock. But now, when he really thought about it, he was married to a man. It was his first ever relationship with a man. Damn it. He cleared his throat and sat down slowly in the chair beside his husband's bed, gaze wide and locked on the wall in front of him.

Sherlock frowned as he studied John. "What's wrong Love?" Something was bothering his husband, that much he could see but he wasn't exactly sure what. Sleep could wait. He wasn't tired now anyway. Not after working himself up just a few moments ago. He figured it would come crashing down on him soon enough anyway.

"I... it's nothing." John looked back at Sherlock with the most genuine smile he could produce. Right now he couldn't tell Sherlock what he was thinking about. Everything around them was bad enough, he couldn't make it worse by telling his husband he suddenly realized he had married a man. "We will talk about it later, yeah?" He sat up a bit and nodded. Maybe later he wouldn't be thinking about it, would realize he'd married Sherlock because he loved him and the fact that he had a dick didn't really matter. He enjoyed shagging his husband so clearly he'd enjoyed being with a bloke. He stood up and started pacing the room in front of Sherlock's bed.

"Right nothing, I can see that." Sherlock said with a slight smirk as he watched John pace. "But…I can't make you talk about it if you don't want to. Later. Whenever you are ready." There. No fighting. Compromise. He couldn't help wonder what was bothering his husband. Maybe if he stared at John long enough he would figure out. Obviously his husband had been upset from when he came back with the food, but something else was bothering John.

John glanced at Sherlock and took a shaky breath. Fuck. He had to say something. "Do you ever realize you have married a man?" He muttered with less confidence than he would have liked. "I mean. I fell in love with you because you're amazing. You make my stomach twist every time I see you and you make me smile for no reason. I could lay with you in bed and watch you sleep for the rest of my life because it makes me so happy but...I think I just realized that I'm gay." It was such a shock to him, clearly.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows but kept quiet until John was done speaking. "First off, yes of course I realized I married a man." He smirked faintly. "John, if I had met a woman and she was _exactly_ like you only female and not male I probably would have fallen in love with her. Labeling sexuality is…stupid." He shrugged. "You don't love me because I am a man, you love me because I'm amazing and perfect." Another smirk. "If you want to label yourself, then go ahead that is your prerogative but who you fall in love with has absolutely nothing to do with sexual preference if you ask me. Whether or not you _act_ on it, is an entirely different story."

"I also love your cock so I am fairly sure I'm gay," John muttered but sounded...relieved. It hadn't started a fight like he honestly thought it would. "S-So you aren't mad that I might be having a minor identity crisis right now?" He moved closer to the bed, resting a hand on top of his husband's foot and rubbing his thumb against Sherlock's arch. "Because I think we have acted on it over a hundred times, don't you?" He laughed and grinned, moving down to place and open mouthed kiss on Sherlock's arch.

Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "Like I said, if you want to label yourself go for it. I guess I view it differently because you are the _only_ person I have ever had interest in. Not even Irene. I mean, she was intriguing in her own but I didn't _feel_ anything for her. I guess one could argue it is because I am 'gay' too but God to honest John, there isn't a single person male or female that I am interested in except for you. You just happen to have a dick. If people want to label me, then they can go right on ahead because I don't care what other people think. I don't think falling in love with you makes me gay, unless you mean the actual literary meaning and not the slang one. In which case, I am _very_ gay." The smirk returned as he looked down at his husband.

John snorted against Sherlock's foot and pulled his foot up a bit. "I fell in love with you as a person. I can't say you are the only person I have ever been interested in but you are the second I've been in love with. Probably the first since I feel like I am doing it right this time," he whispered against Sherlock's arch with a devious smirk. "I love you," he whispered as his tongue darted out to lap at his husband's foot. "And you are fucking amazing."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at his husband, too confused to add that he is also perfect. "John what are you doing?" Did his partner have one of those weird foot fetishes this whole time and he didn't know about it? Or was his husband just trying something new? Was John going to get upset now? They had successfully avoided fighting twice now and he wanted to continue that track record.

"I was...I dunno, I watched it in a movie while I was in the waiting room. Thought...you might like it." John cleared his throat with a blush and gently put his husband's foot back on the bed. "Sorry." He twisted his mouth to the side nervously and cleared his throat. Well, he might have ruined that. Christ, he was an idiot, wasn't he? "Probably should have asked you first, yeah?"

Sherlock gave a small laugh. "It is fine Love. I thought maybe you had a foot fetish I didn't know about." He cocked an eyebrow with a smirk on his lips. "Come snuggle with me?" He asked hopefully and then paused. "I didn't ruin anything you had planned, did I?" If it was something John really wanted to do, he could at least give it a try he supposed.

"Of course." John moved forward and climbed into the bed, hesitating for a moment before he curled against his husband's side and rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. He knew Sherlock liked snuggling with him, like being curled against him, but right now he just needed a bit of comfort. The day had been stressful and he was sick of feeling like he was. Maybe some comfort from his husband would help.

Should it worry him that John didn't answer his question? Sherlock wrapped an arm around his husband, fingers trailing along John's back lightly and soothingly. "I love you," he murmured as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of his husband's. He wrapped his arm around John a little tighter so he could pull his husband closer to him still.

"I love you, too," John whispered as he closed his eyes, pressing his face against Sherlock's chest for a long moment. "You hated the foot thing, then? I am keeping notes so I don't ruin the moment the next time I get to shag you." He grinned, laughed, and lifted his head to press his nose against his husband's neck. He took a deep breath, inhaling Sherlock's scent. "You are the most wonderful person I have ever met and I am glad that when I wake up every morning I see you and get to have my stomach twist at the site of your beautiful face."

"I didn't hate it really. Just felt weird and kind of tickled more than any turn me on. We can try it sometime if its something you really want to do." Sherlock smiled down at John, and kissed the top of his husband's head again. "Do you like it? Having your toes sucked on? Your foot kissed? Might as well take notes too." He gave John a slight smirk.

John squirmed slightly at the thought. At one point he was fairly sure he had enjoyed it but he was older now, a lot of his things had changed. "I don't know if I like it, I guess." He blushed at the thought but continued. "I did like to have some attention paid to my feet when I was younger. I was all about my body being ravished but with you..." Oh God, was he about to say this? "With you I am always so excited that I _actually_ get to shag you that I forget about myself and focus entirely on you."

"I will try it on you sometime. Little tired right now," Sherlock admitted quietly. But he couldn't sleep, not yet anyway. He needed to cheer up John some more still. "Did you still want to hear about my other fantasy? It is a little more exciting and creative than my other one. Although, most of the idea came from some of yours or we have already done or you have mentioned. So, not so creative I guess." He smirked a bit and shrugged.

John looked up at that statement with a grin, eyes wide and sparkling. "Yeah, I would love that." He moved a hand across his husband's chest. That sounded wonderful and like it certainly distract him from his negative thoughts. "I would love to hear it. I am sure it is wonderful." He turned his head and placed an open mouthed kiss in the side of his husband's neck.

Sherlock's eyes closed momentarily in contentment from the kiss. "I come home from a case being solved and you surprise attack me. For it to work, you would have to plan it without my knowing, to give it a more real feeling. Anyway, you are thief and I have caught you by surprise by coming home early. A scuffle ensues. Then I tie you to chair and have my way with you as I see fit." He looked down at John, to see what his husband thought of the idea.

"Oh God." John exhaled a bit and swallowed hard, blushing at just the thought. Shit, he was getting a hard on. "We are doing _that_ first. That sounds amazing." He licked his lips and exhaled shakily. "I love it. Yes. I...think I need to use the restroom," he muttered with a nervous blush as he shifted against his husband and tried to hide his erection.

"I haven't even told you the best part yet." Sherlock smirked devilishly. "I interrogate you. There is an easy way and a hard way." He dropped his head to John's ear to breathe on it before whispering. "The hard way involves the riding crop." He let his tongue run along his husband's skin after speaking. He reached a hand down to palm John teasingly through the pants.

"Ah- Nnaah." John buried his head roughly into his husband's shoulder, pressing into Sherlock's hand without a second thought. "P-Please. Want that. W-Want that with the riding crop." He opened his mouth and took a bit of his husband's hospital gown into his mouth. "Fuck." His hips snapped forward and a low growl. "Yours first."

Sherlock smirked. "I guess I could be persuaded to do it, once I am a hundred percent. For everything I have planned, you will want me in tip top shape." He gripped the bulge in the pants, squeezing a few times. He decided that was enough teasing and undid John's pants. His hand slid in through the hole in the boxers deftly and found purchase on his husband's penis almost immediately. He began a steady pace, his grip firm.

"Yes." John let his jaw drop open, arching a bit into Sherlock's touch. He hadn't intended on this ending in a hand job but just hearing Sherlock talk like that made him shiver with anticipation. "Good. L-Love you." He clinched his teeth tighter against the fabric in his mouth. How long would he have to wait for that? Sherlock needed to rest a lot for it to happen any time soon.

Sherlock smirked, pleased with himself. "Like that do you, Love?" He knew the answer of course. He owed John for the blow job. He quickened the pace, his thumb sliding up to rub along the tip lightly when his hand was up towards the top of his husband's cock.

That thumb thing...that was new and so wonderful. John moaned into the hospital gown loudly. "Mmph." He pressed his hips eagerly into his husband's hand. Cocky bastard. Sherlock knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Bless him, it was perfect. "Nngh." He exhaled loudly through his nose and tried to shout though his closed mouth.

Sherlock smirked again. "I will take that as a yes." John also appeared to like what he did with his thumb. Excellent. He slowed his pace and stopped at the top of his husband's cock. He massaged where he held, and he went back to work with his thumb on the tip. John had said he liked attention showered on him and damn it that was exactly what he was going to give his husband. His partner deserved to be spoiled. "I can't wait to tie you to a chair and use my riding crop on you," he whispered into John's ear.

Stopping. Why? This wasn't fai- Oh. _Oh_. John gasped and looked between them, tugging the hospital gown with him. "Mmmm." His eyes slammed shut the moment he heard Sherlock's voice. Even sick the man was a fantastic tease. New things and... "Dun stof," he whimpered and forced his hips still. How did Sherlock find out he liked this? Was he writing a book on how to give wonderful hand jobs?

The smirk became even bigger. "The things I am going to do to you when we play out my little fantasy…" Sherlock trailed off, deciding to let John's imagination run rampant with whatever. He moved his lips to his husband's neck and he began running his tongue along the skin slowly. His free hand slid up John's shirt and ran along lightly on his husband's stomach and chest. The hand on John's penis continued to massage for awhile before he finally began stroking his husband once more.

John moaned loudly and finally let the hospital gown slip from his mouth. "So good," he whispered hotly against his husband's ear. "Oh God you are wonderful. Fuck." It was too much and after several more strokes from Sherlock's hand he came roughly between them, clutching desperately at Sherlock's hospital gown. "Oh... God. Sherlock how did you..." He trailed off in favor of trying to catch his breath.

Sherlock began placing kisses up and down John's neck even though his husband had already climaxed. "I wanted to spoil you. Shower you with the love and attention you deserve," he murmured into John's skin, nipping at it here and there. He removed his hand, wiping it as clean as possible on the sheets. He had been so focused on John he had completely ignored his own erection and he crossed his legs to hopefully hide it from his husband. His lips worked their way up to John's, his tongue going to explore immediately and eagerly. Snogging sounded wonderful right about now.

John lazily returned the kiss, moaning slightly into Sherlock's mouth. What had he done to deserve that? At some point he would have to ask but right now he would rather focus on his husband's tongue doing wonderful things in his mouth. He pulled away slowly and opened his eyes. "Do you want me to return the favor?" He asked slowly, struggling not to smile in his post-bliss state.

"No, it is fine. This is all about you Love." Sherlock smiled down at John. Would he be able to get away with shagging his husband? "I could shag you, if you wanted. I would go slow, so I won't wear myself out." A kiss on the nose. "Talk to you." Another kiss. "Make love to you." A third one. "I love you." This time he kissed John on the lips, slow but passionate.

Slow. Talking. Would Sherlock be able to do it? John moaned into the kiss and tried to think rationally. His husband needed to heal and shagging certainly wouldn't do that. But it sounded wonderful because he had described it as making love. "Please make love to me," he nearly begged. "I thought about you inside of me the entire time I was gone, arrested. Want you." He smiled a bit.

Sherlock didn't need to be told twice and he straddled John almost immediately. He moved his lips to his husband's neck again, to shower it with light kisses and nips. Hadn't there been petroleum jelly close by from the last time they had tried to shag? He was too busy giving attention to his husband right now to look. He pressed his erection against John's inner thigh with a small whimper. He kissed his way up to his husband's ear. "Can't wait to be inside of you. Sliding in and out of you slowly, making you squirm and moan." He rubbed his hard on into John's pants, the friction from the fabric making him moan softly into his husband's ear.

John moaned and pulled Sherlock against him with a small whimper. Jesus, why did he have to be impatient and get off before this? He arched up to give Sherlock more friction, shivering at the over-sensitivity he felt. His husband had gotten rather good at talking. Right now John was turned on and he had just orgasmed. "Want to feel you," he muttered around desperate gasps of breath.

Sherlock was writhing with anticipation and excitement. He was certain he would go mad with frustration if he didn't shag John _now_. He reached to the side blindly and grabbed the jar of lubricant. He fumbled with his husband's pants but eventually got them off, or at least pulled down far enough he could prep John. His movements were sloppy, rushed in his excitement. He slicked himself down next, his own touch making him whimper. He discarded the container without a care and entered his husband slowly with moan. "John, you already feel wonderful," he muttered into the ear he was nibbling on.

It was a bit weird to have Sherlock inside of him and not have an erection, he would be the first to admit it. John moaned softly and closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips. This was all for Sherlock because his husband needed it. He always needed it. All of the attention was always for his husband. "Good. You feel good, fuck." He arched up into Sherlock with a small moan.

"…'skay?" Sherlock asked. Would the slow pace be enough for John? He was pretty sure anything faster would be too much for him but if his husband needed it he would try. The angle was a bit odd, between his hospital gown and John's pants being in the way a bit but he managed to make it work anyway. He moaned into his husband's ear again, as he kept the slow but steady pace. "Promise next time will be better. You will be all tied up and I will have my riding crop in my hand." He moaned once more, moving his lips to John's so he could kiss the man below him. It was slow, almost in time with his thrusts.

"Good," John replied breathlessly, trying to spread his legs as far as he could manage with his pants near his ankles. He returned the kiss with the same speed, one hand moving down to his husband's ass. "Riding crop...can't wait," he said against Sherlock's lips. His hand stilled momentarily before he gently pushed one finger into his husband's entrance. The man needed some attention, too. It was perfect for him.

Sherlock's pace staggered and faltered in excited surprise when he felt John's fingers enter. He moaned into his husband's mouth. "God yes. You are amazing Love," he murmured behind the kiss. He whimpered and finally found his pace again, trying to keep it slow. He tried to calm himself down, ignoring the chest pains that had started from his increased breathing pattern.

"Calm," John whispered as he pulled away from Sherlock's lips. He shifted slightly and used his other hand to still his husband's hips. "Catch your breath. Shh." He pressed their foreheads together with a warm smile. This was...powerful. The most amazing moment he had ever had with Sherlock and he wasn't even aroused. "You are fine. Calm down, don't hurt yourself." He gave Sherlock a soft, slow kiss.

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath, and kept his slow pace. "I love you." The tightening in his chest gradually faded. He found his rhythm again, moaning. "Love being inside of you. You feel great." He smiled down at John and then moved his head down to begin nibbling on his husband's neck lightly. "John…" He trailed off with a moan, as he continued his slow thrusts.

"Yeah. Good," John gasped and started slowly moving his fingers in and out of his husband. "You feel good. So good." He let his head fall back to expose more of his neck to his husband, squeezing his legs against Sherlock's sides with the best smirk he could manage. "So good slow. Sherlock..." His free hand squeezed his husband's ass as he rocked eagerly up into Sherlock.

Sherlock whimpered from the feeling of John's fingers inside him. He stopped the kissing love bites and merely started to nuzzle his nose into his husband's. "I love you," he repeated followed by another moan. God, he hadn't realized that this would be so amazing. Or did it just feel so good because they hadn't shagged in awhile? He turned his head so his mouth could reach John's skin again, his tongue running along it lightly. He brought a hand up to run through his husband's hair lightly and the other trailed along John's side gently.

"Mmph." John looked between them with a gasp, face a bit red as he tried to focus on not being too loud. "I love you too," he muttered as he continued to roll his hips to keep the pace slow and comfortable for his husband. What was it with them and hospitals? He smirked and turned his head, kissing Sherlock's palm several times. "Sherlock," he whispered as he clenched his muscles around his husband's cock.

Sherlock knew realistically, he didn't have the stamina to keep this going for much longer. But he didn't want this moment to end. He continued his slow thrusts, with whimpering moans. "John, this is so good. You feel so amazing Love. Everything. All of it." He began nibbling on his husband's neck again. He curled his fingers so he could scratch lightly at John's chest and stomach.

"Love you," John muttered weakly, as he managed a smile up at his husband. Not much longer, he figured. Sherlock looked a bit tired and definitely needed to rest. "You are doing so well," he whispered, his breath hitching at the feeling of nails against his skin. "Fuck," he moaned and closed his eyes, his hips moving up in one quick motion.

That one quick motion did it for Sherlock and he no longer kept the slow pace. He moaned as his thrusts became faster and harder. After a few quick thrusts he moaned John's name into his husband's neck. He collapsed next to John, panting. His chest was tight and painful again and he shut his eyes against the pain. He ignored it and mumbled into the pillow his head was now buried, "That was fantastic. Thank you."

"Of course," John whispered, pushing at Sherlock so he could breathe easier. "I am here. Stay calm. Deep, slow breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth." He lifted his clean hand and ran it through his husband's hair, pulling him closer so he could rest his head against John's chest. "That was good. You were wonderful," he muttered as he placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

"I am fine," Sherlock protested. "Just…tired…" His eyes remained closed and he snuggled in closer to John as his breathing returned back to normal. "Love you," he muttered sleepily. The walk to and from the café had worn him down and then shagging his husband had pretty much wiped him. He fell into a deep, peaceful slumber curled up against John.


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note:

Johnlock porn for your reading pleasure. It involves the riding crop!

* * *

Finally. Home. Well, they had been home almost two weeks now. The media frenzy had finally died down and Sherlock was taking cases again. He had closed a few for Lestrade already, but he just finished up his first paid, private one. He had just arrived home at the flat and it was pretty quiet. Had John taken the kids out for an early dinner, while he had stayed behind at the office to finish up an experiment? Maybe his husband hadn't expected him home so early?

It had taken a lot of planning and more than John's fair share of guessing to find the perfect time to get everything together. That...was the door opening. John took a deep breath and ripped their dresser open, grabbing his husband's favorite scarf and moving slowly out of the room. Sherlock. He tensed, looked down at the scarf, and then back up at his husband. "Uh...shit."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and then realization dawned on him. Come to think of it, Mrs. Hudson hadn't been home either. A brief smirk etched his lips before it turned into a scowl, his eyes narrowed. "The hell? Who are you and what are you doing in my flat?" He eyed the scarf. "Ah, a thief I see. Stealing a scarf? _Really_? Couldn't find something, oh I don't know…worth stealing?"

"Got a full outfit, getting a bit cold outside." John eyed the scarf and shifted slightly on his feet. "Needed something before I went out to..." He cleared his throat and shoved the scarf into his front pocket the best he could. "Right then. I'm off, I guess. Need to run off before I run into the coppers I am fairly sure you will call." He smirked a bit and moved to brush by his husband and leave through the front door.

Sherlock grabbed John's arm as his husband walked by. "Oh, you think you get to leave do you? No one steals from me and walks away. I am afraid you will be need to be taught a lesson in manners." He paused but then advanced on John, to push his husband against the wall. Not too rough. The last thing he wanted was another freak accident happening.

John gasped and looked up at Sherlock with narrowed eyes, fighting the grip for a moment before exhaling loudly. "Fuck off," he growled and lifted a hand to push gently at Sherlock's shoulder. "You have got a bunch of 'em already, greedy bastard. I've seen your clothes." He pushed again and tried to get away, his chest moving a bit faster as he breathed.

"Tch, tch." Sherlock brought up his other hand to wag a single finger under John's chin. "Such language Sir. I will make you pay for that too." He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. He didn't ease up his grip off John, rather leaned into his husband. He pressed his free arm against his husband's neck to pin the other man to the wall. "By the time I am done with you, you will be begging for mercy."

Oh, well. John swallowed hard, pressing a bit against the wall to hide his erection. Not good. He couldn't let Sherlock know he was already turned on. "Asshole," he spat, making sure to get some spit on Sherlock's face. This was...a bit more intense than he imagined but, honestly, this _was_ Sherlock he was talking about. "What, you think you're the police or something? Think you can take me? I was in the Army, mate. I can fight a bit." He lifted his knee and brought it harshly into his husband's thigh.

"You might have muscle on me, but if you are stealing from me then you are obviously an idiot. Brains beats brawn every-" Sherlock was cut off as he grunted. The arm at John's throat, dropped to cover the area in protective reflex. His knees had doubled. He honestly hadn't been expecting it, but he recovered quickly and stood his full height. He still had John's arm in his hand and the grip tightened as his eyes narrowed menacingly. "That was a mistake."

"Mistake? Piss off," John snapped as he pressed against his husband in an attempt to get away. "I've got brains on you, too," he muttered as he struggled to take a deep breath. "You think you can beat me?" He twisted his arm a bit to try and get Sherlock's grip off, slamming his opposite shoulder into the wall to get more leverage.

Sherlock smirked. His free hand grabbed the scarf in John's pocket. He moved to twist his husband, so John was face first against the wall. He attempted wrap the scarf around his husband's neck in an attempt to help restrain the man as he pressed against John's body to hopefully keep the pressure on and his husband on the defensive rather than offensive.

John felt the fabric around his neck and grunted, slamming a hand against the wall with a small shout. "Piss off!" He repeated as he pressed back against Sherlock, thrashed between him and the wall. Real. This needed to be as real as possible. "Bastard. What do you think you're going to accomplish right now? Pinning some innocent man against a wall?" He reached a hand behind him and grabbed Sherlock's coat, giving it a rough tug.

"Innocent? _Innocent?_" Sherlock spat the repeated word with a bit of venom. "In what universe is a man stealing innocent, pre tell?" He leaned forward, so his full body would press against John. Just to be a tease, he thrust his hips into his husband roughly. He bit his lip to prevent himself from moaning. He had to stay in character. God, why hadn't they done role plays more often?

John's breath hitched and he froze for a moment, glancing back at Sherlock the best he could. That thrust had smashed him into the wall, had bumped his erection into it. It had felt _wonderful_. "When some cocky, arrogant _bastard_ has enough that a poor man can use one," he replied through clinched teeth, pressing back into Sherlock with a small growl. "Like being all close to me or somethin'? Fuck off," he muttered as he slammed a hand against the wall.

The smirk returned to his lips. Sherlock leaned in to whisper in John's ear, making sure to breathe heavily on it. "What if I do? I have got all kinds of plans for you. You will be screaming, that I promise you." He let his lips barely brush his husband's ear as he slowly pulled his head away. "Now, you going to be a good boy and accept your punishment? Or are we going to have to do things the hard way?"

"Good boy?" John growled and reached behind him, digging his fingernails into Sherlock's thigh as roughly as he could manage. "Bullshit. I'm not going to fucking do anything you want." He took a deep breath and pressed back against his husband. "You're not going to do anything. You're not a fucking copper. Let me go," he snapped and thrashed against the wall with a shout, his feet struggling to get purchase on the floor. Bloody socks.

Sherlock growled but held his ground against John, despite the fingernails digging into him. "Oh, you still have some fight left in you I see. Good, I was hoping you would put up a fight. I will just have to _make_ you submit now won't I?" He finally leaned up off his husband, turning his husband around roughly and slamming his back against the wall. He kept a tight grip on the scarf, his body once against pressing into John. He brought his knee up to connect with his husband's stomach.

It all happened so fast. Back against wall, harsh and blunt pain. Then the stomach. Fuck. John doubled over the best he could, grunting with each exhale. He had to stay focused because this was all part of the act. Vomiting would most certainly ruin the mood. "Make me _submit_? You some kind of sex freak?" He muttered as he tried to stand as straight as he could manage, swallowing hard. He defiantly met Sherlock's gaze, puffing his chest out a bit. "Fucking wanker."

Shit. Was that too much? John would say the safety word, right? Sherlock narrowed his eyes; his husband was keeping it going so he would too. "You talk tough for someone who can't even breathe." He smirked. "As matter of fact, I am." He brought his face to John's. "Why, does that bother you? I promise you will like it. I could have been gentle, but no, you just had to fight. You are going to take it and like it. I am _very_ good you see." He ran his tongue along the cheek.

John narrowed one eye, forcing himself to try and pull away despite the fact that, _damn_, that didn't feel horrible. "T-That's ridiculous..." He took a deep breath_. "_Sick bastard," he muttered and pushed against Sherlock for a moment, moving his head away from the man's tongue the best he could. "Let me go, not some part of your sick fantasy. I'd rather you call the coppers." He took a deep breath and wiggled, pressing his erection against Sherlock's thigh for a quick moment. _Still interested. So good._

Sherlock held his breath to prevent himself from moaning as he felt John's erection for a brief few seconds. "That is what you say now, but trust me. I will change your mind. You underestimate how _good_ I am." He moved his lips to his husband's ear next, nibbling on the bottom lobe lightly. "The more you struggle, the longer this lasts. But that's what you want, isn't it? I can see it in your eyes." He dropped his voice to whisper seductively in John's ear. "You want me. You and I both know it."

Was he really being that readable during their little game? Shit. John pulled his head away the best he could, his eyes moving to the door. If he fought, twisted, and slammed his knee into Sherlock's thigh then he might try and dart for the door. It would certainly make things more interesting. He took a deep breath and twisted at his waist, his knee lifting into his husband's thigh as he struggled to break free and toward the door.

Sherlock grunted, losing his grip on John as he doubled over for a moment. A smirk touched his lips. God this was turning out amazing and his husband was playing along beautifully. Shit, he couldn't wait to be inside John but it was too soon for that. There was still all kinds of foreplay to be had. He hadn't even tied his husband to a chair yet. Stupid thoughts, distracting him. He finally took off after John.

It took a bit but John finally heard Sherlock's footsteps behind him. Which way did he run? Downstairs would lead them to Mrs. Hudson's flat. That was not a good idea at all. He veered to the right and down the hall toward their bedroom, slamming against the wall as he tried to force himself to turn too quickly. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath as his socks failed to push him forward and he slipped, catching himself against the railing of the stairs that led up to his old room.

Sherlock caught up with John easily despite his husband's head start. A brief frown etched his lips as he studied the other man. Was John still able to go on? Might as well find out but tread lightly just in case. "See? You had a chance to get away. To run downstairs and outside, but you didn't. You want me, you just aren't ready to admit it to yourself yet. It is okay, I will show you. Show you wonderful things." He smirked at his husband as he advanced slowly on John's position.

John turned swiftly on his feet, smirking proudly. "Landlady's downstairs, mate. Wouldn't want her calling the coppers, would I?" He tried to stand up, his feet slipping again. He over corrected, just his luck, and it sent him falling forward straight into Sherlock's chest. Damn it. That wasn't very sexy but it did go with the role a bit, didn't it? "Don't want you..." He growled as he tried to push away from his husband.

Sherlock caught John easily. "Thought you said you would rather the _coppers_ be called on you than what I had in mind? You are sending mixed signals. I like a man who plays hard to get. It makes the chase all the more thrilling." He smirked again, as he moved to pin his husband to the wall once more. "It is okay, keep fighting it. It's more fun that way."

Panic. That wasn't an easy thing to act out with Sherlock so close to him. "Fuck you..." John felt like he had said that so many times but what else could he shout? He pressed himself against the wall, standing on his toes to try and get as far from Sherlock as he possibly could. "You're sick, y'know that? Like fighting? Sick," he muttered as his hands moved to push gently at his husband's hips.

"Well, you don't have to fight it if you don't want to." Sherlock lifted a hand to trail along John's cheek and down the neck slowly. "I can be gentle, if you want. Is that what you want?" He leaned to whisper breathily into his husband's ear again. "You keep struggling, so I figured that's what you wanted...a fight. While admittedly that is more fun, we don't have to keep up this little charade. You can accept what is going to happen right now. We are near a bedroom, we could go in there." When he finished speaking, he took John's ear in his mouth once more.

Fight the arousal. John swallowed hard and took a shaky breath before pushing his hands gently against Sherlock's stomach. It was difficult to keep fighting when it all felt so wonderful. "Not going to bum you," he muttered as he tried feebly to twist away, a small sigh escaping his lips as his ear was pulled from his husband's mouth. "Nothing is going to happen. Sod off." He lowered his hands and pushed at Sherlock's hips again, trying to slide back into the living room.

"You won't be the one doing the bumming. You just have to sit…or lay there and take it, that is all." Sherlock cooed into John's ear. He let his husband push him back. "Oh the living room it is. You really are fussy, aren't you? I think you came here knowing exactly what would happen, didn't you?" The smirk returned and he began advancing on John again. "You can't fight it forever. Eventually I will just break you down, you know. It is just a matter of time. I am irresistible."

"What? You think you will get to bum me? Ever think to ask my opinion on that?" John looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, walking backward as the man advanced on him. "I could leave right now, y'know. Just dart down those stairs and tell the coppers some mad man tried to bum me because I wanted a scarf. Who'd look bad then?" He grinned, clearly a bit proud of himself for that conclusion. "Can't bum me if I can fight, move." He crossed his arms over his chest and stood still, a smirk on his lips.

"So, you want to 'bum' _me_ as you put it. I suppose I could be persuaded into that, but you will have to prove yourself worthy of such a thing." Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You already had a chance to make a run for it, you didn't." He continued to advance upon his husband, trying to back the other man into the living room and into one of the chairs.

"I don't want to do anything with you," John said lowly before falling back into...one of their dining room chairs? Confusion flashed over his face for a moment before he remembered that he had planned some of this. Moved a chair, grabbed a pair of handcuffs they still had. He even managed to find some old ties from the bottom of their dresser. He looked up at Sherlock defiantly, sitting up straight and holding his head high. "Sod off and go take a wank like a normal person."

Sherlock smirked. Oh John, what a brilliant man. He followed after his husband and moved to straddle John in the chair his husband had backed into. "Normal? Oh my dear fellow, I am _far_ from normal. Everything will be okay, you will see. Still going to fight, or we going to kiss and make up now?" He moved his face directly in front of his husband's.

"Kiss?" John sat back in the chair, nervously glancing where Sherlock's hips rested on him. Warmth. God, he could see his husband's erection. He took a deep breath and shook his head, pursing his lips. "I'm not going to kiss you, you maniac," he muttered as he shifted in the chair and gently shoved at Sherlock's stomach. "I'm going to fight you until you fucking stop trying to shag me," he muttered.

A mock frown crossed Sherlock's lips. "No? That is a shame…I thought for sure I would be able to seduce you." He glanced to the floor as if in thought. Was that hand cuffs? He resisted the urge to smirk. His husband had certainly planned this out. "Fine. To jail with it is with you, but not until I get a few things out of you and it won't be a good shagging. You just had to do it the hard way, didn't you?" He pressed his hips into his husband purposefully as he leaned down to get the handcuffs.

Don't moan. Don't enjoy it. John tensed and closed his eyes. "Seduce me? Right. You aren't doing any of that." He smirked a bit and shifted, looking around as innocently as possible. "Sod off, mate. I'm not interested. Let me up, I'm done with this." He growled as he lifted his hips in a slight attempt to get some wiggle room.

"Quite right. We are done with that game. Your loss really." Sherlock bit his lip to prevent moaning or whimper and he managed to snatch up the handcuffs. He brought them up quickly and had one cuff open and he tried to close it around his husband's wrist. "It is a shame really. You and I could have a lot of fun but alas it has come to this."

Come to...When the Hell had Sherlock moved to grab those? He shifted and let his eyes go wide the moment he felt the metal close around his wrist. "Shit," he muttered a bit dumbly. That was what he had planned, of course. It was so...amazing now that it was actually happening. "Think I'm going to beg for something? Bit cocky." He shifted and tugged a bit at the handcuffs.

"No. I told you, we are passed that. You don't listen at all do you? Probably better this way, you are disappointingly dim witted. You wouldn't make a good shag anyway." Sherlock had to pause and bite his lip. Had he gone too far with what he said? Just press forward, no going back now. He tugged at the cuffed hand to pull it back behind the chair, as he grabbed the other hand to pull it back as well and click the other cuff into place.

"Probably have never had a good shag in your life," John hissed as both of his arms tensed and he tugged at the handcuffs for a moment. This shouldn't be so hot but with Sherlock above him like that he couldn't help the small whimper that escaped his lips. Damn it. "Best damn shag of anybody's life. Know what to do with my cock." He grinned and looked up at his husband. "Get your erection away from me."

God, he had the best husband ever. "Wish granted." Sherlock got off of John, seemingly completely disinterested in the man cuffed to the chair. He walked over, picked up the scarf that had fallen when John had bolted, and looked around for his riding crop. There it was on the mantle. He walked over to it calmly and inspected it as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

John shifted a bit, wincing as the wooden chair creaked under his weight. Now did he tell Sherlock he wanted the scarf in his mouth? Wanted it forcing his jaw open and tied behind his head. "Going to sit here and keep talking. Might shout a bit for he-" The riding crop. Oh fuck. He could feel his cock twitch and he shifted in the chair again. "What is that?" He asked as innocently as possible.

"Oh, I don't think we need to worry about you calling for help." Sherlock walked over to John and tied the scarf in place around his husband's mouth, making it sure it was tight and wouldn't slide easily. "This…" He trailed off and he switched it against the side of John's neck with a flick of his wrist. Enough to sting but not leave a mark. He walked back around so his husband could see him, the riding crop staying place. "This is a riding crop, usually used on horses by jockeys when racing but I will be using this on you." He finally removed it from John, bringing the tip up to his free hand so he could fiddle with the end and stare it. "You just had to pick the hard way. You have brought this upon yourself."

John was breathing heavily, his mouth pried open and, _fuck_. He let his eyes close as a soft moan escaped his lips. That was hot. His hips lifted slightly and he opened his eyes, staring at his husband for a long moment."'Uck 'ou," he managed to spit out, lifting a foot up and slamming it against Sherlock's thigh. Not too much damage since he didn't have any shoes on, but he figured it helped prove a point. His eyes moved slowly back to the riding crop.

"No, no. The time for fighting is over. I am in _complete_ control now and there isn't anything you can do to stop me I am afraid." Sherlock stared at the foot that had kicked him. He shook his head in a disapproving matter, his lips quirked slightly to one side as if in thought. He moved over and picked up the ties off the floor by the chair, and began to tie his husband's ankles to the legs of the chair.

John tried to talk but the fabric of the scarf was too much and he settled for wiggling in the chair, his still-free leg moving to gently push at his husband's shoulder. It was basic human instinct to fight, wasn't it? He smirked. Sherlock had set the riding crop down to tie him up. His foot moved and he kicked it across the floor with a small sound of triumph, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at his husband.

"Oh, you think you are clever now do you?" Sherlock gave a smirk but his eyes were narrowed. He sighed dramatically and then tied the other ankle. He stood back up, walked over the riding crop, picked it up and walked back over to John. "I am not really sure what you hoped to accomplish by doing that. I guess you are still trying to be defiant, despite your predicament." He placed the riding crop under his husband's chin and used it to lift John's head up a bit and stared down at his husband as if studying the prone man's face.

Jesus. John felt like a bloody horse being inspected for a race. He narrowed his eyes and tensed his jaw, exhaling loudly through his nose several times. It was too much of an effort to talk, really, so staring would have to do. His entire body tensed for a moment, the chair creaking as he tested every bound point of his body. Strong. It had worked. He tugged his wrists for a moment before ripping his head away from the riding crop with a muffled noise.

Sherlock moved and straddled John once more. He placed his face in front of his husband's so that they were nose to nose. The riding crop in his hand maneuvered up John's shirt, the wispy threads on the end gliding down the skin very slowly, starting from the chest down to the stomach. "Are you ready to give in yet or must things continue down this path? A simple nod or head shake will suffice."

Give up? Who in their right mind would give up? John smirked the best he could, turning his head away and studying the fireplace curiously, like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He couldn't give Sherlock the satisfaction of winning or seeing him break. That wasn't part of the deal. A small shiver shot through his body at the feeling of the riding crop but he bit down on the scarf to push away any noise he might make.

"That is a shame. It is going to be a very long night, for you anyway." Sherlock got up off of John, the riding crop brushing along his husband's face going from one cheek, under the chin and to another. "Well, you sit tight hm? I am going to make some tea, feed my cat. Just let me know when you are ready, okay?" He gave a smirk and a short laugh. "Oh that's right, you can't. I will come back in what an hour? Would that be okay? Maybe longer? Give you time to think about it? I am a _very _patient man when I want to be."

The bastard. John whipped his head around, eyes narrowing and locking intently on Sherlock. Leave? He was just going to leave him tied to the chair, obvious erection and all? Fine. He shrugged a bit, rolled his eyes, and let them drop to the bulge in his husband's pants. How long would that last, really? Sherlock was just as sexual as him and wouldn't be able to handle just leaving him tied to a chair.

Sherlock smirked, his eyes sparkling with victory. "Oh yes, well. I can take care of that on my own if need be. Although I would really rather I didn't have to. You on the other hand…whatever will you do tied to chair I wonder?" He chewed on his bottom lip as if deep in thought. The riding crop moved down John's cheek, to the shoulder, down the upper torso and down to the erection in his husband's pants and he outlined the bulge with it. "So, what's it going to be hm?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

John let a small moan escape his chest, his head falling back at the feeling of the riding crop. Through his pants and he was already shaking with need. There was no way he could push Sherlock away. There wasn't much he could do to fight without arms and legs. Tipping the chair had crossed his mind but the landing would be less than comfortable. He narrowed his eyes and gently lifted his hips, defeat flashing across his gaze for a moment.

Sherlock flashed a triumphant smile. "I will take that as a yes then." He gently thwacked the riding crop against John's bulge. "But first…" He moved over to his husband and undid the scarf and let it fall to John's lap. "…say it. Say that you submit." His lips twitched into a smirk and he leaned in to whisper in his husband's ear, "I want to hear you say it." His tongue flicked out to run the length of the ear and he turned his head as he began sucking on John's neck for moment, the riding crop doing teasing circles on his husband's inner thighs.

John let out a small shout at the light smack against his erection, gasping for breath as the scarf was pulled from his mouth. Did he say it? Everything happening right now was quite wonderful. He smirked a bit and turned his head, opening his mouth and biting down harshly on his husband's jaw. "Fuck you," he muttered as he pulled away, proud of the teeth indents in Sherlock's skin.

That was unexpected. Sherlock jerked his head away instinctively. "I see. Tea time it is then." He got off John, picked up the scarf and tied it back place. He tied a little tighter than before. "I will be back in a bit to see you change your mind." He gave a small shrug, almost apologetic as he began to walk towards the kitchen.

John bit down on the scarf with a small shout, his entire body tensing as Sherlock walked away. He was actually going to walk away? That arse. Now all he could manage was shouts, muffled from the scarf. It was all too wonderful and torturous. He shifted and the chair creaked, two feet coming off the ground and slamming heavily on to the floor.

Sherlock stopped, the smirk twitching back into place. He stood above John's head and looking down at his husband. "Have you changed your mind then? Ready to give in? I told you, I am quite persuasive." The riding crop was still in hand and he used it to force the scarf down to John's neck. "Now, do you or don't you submit? Don't make me leave you on the floor like this while I have nice cup of tea." He trailed the riding crop along his husband's body again, this time going down John's pants and past the waistline of the boxers. He trailed the tip of it along the entire length of his husband's cock.

"I-I... oh..." John's eyes rolled back before he closed them, his head falling back as his chest started moving faster with each hard breath. That fall had twinged his shoulder a bit but he could ignore it in favor of whatever Sherlock had planned. "Ye-nngh..." He let his head fall back as he pressed his hips into the riding crop, desperate for any sort of touch. How did his husband manage to do that? Make everything so bloody wonderfully?

Shit. Had John hurt himself? Keep going still? Sherlock hesitated as he studied his husband for a few moments and decided to press on since John seemed intent on doing so as well. "I'm sorry, what was that? Was that supposed to be a yes? I am not really sure I heard you clearly, so you will have to repeat it for me." The riding crop trailed away from his husband's penis and began to trace along John's inner right thigh, before he snaked it out of his partner's pants. He moved the riding crop all the way up to his husband's ear, running the tip of it along behind the lobe gently.

At this rate John wasn't going to be able to talk by the end of this. He could hardly form a coherent thought as it was. "F-Fuck..." He took a deep breath, shifted slightly, and looked up at his husband. "Yes," he said calmly, a hint of fight still in his eyes. "Yes. I submit." That had been a bit harder to say than he thought it would be but he had done it, given Sherlock what he wanted. Would it all end now? No more riding crop? He turned his head, opening his mouth, and took as much of the object into his mouth as he could.

Sherlock smirked ear to ear, utterly delighted. His eyes lit up with mischief, as he continued to look down at John. "Oh, like objects in your mouth do you?" He gently moved the riding crop into his husband's mouth a little more. He twirled it around, the tiny ends brushing along the inside of John's mouth.

John closed his eyes and moaned, opening his mouth a little bit at the sensation. That was...different, to say the least. He could taste himself on it, causing him to moan again. When had they become so erotic with each other? Hell, how long at Sherlock been thinking about this? He smirked the best he could and bobbed his head several times on the riding crop, his eyes up and locked on Sherlock.

Christ, watching his husband suck on a riding crop should not be so hot but shit. Sherlock let out a whimper, unable to no longer keep his silence. John seemed to be enjoying it to and that only made it even more amazing to watch. He was so hard right now it hurt, but in all the right ways possible. There was a part of him that never wanted this foreplay to end. Why didn't they do this more often? Oh right, they were too busy always trying to get straight to shagging as soon as one of them got an erection. He continued to swirl the riding crop in John's mouth, a small moan escaping his lips this time from all the wonderful thoughts it provoked just watching his husband.

Perfect. John had managed to get his husband to moan by just sucking on the riding crop. He smirked and slowly pulled away, letting his head fall back. "Like that, d'you?" He lifted his head and let his tongue dart out to drag across any of the part he could reach. "You're welcome, then. Glad I could get you all turned on." He grinned proudly and let his head fall back, eyes locked intently on Sherlock. This was wonderful and now he was fairly sure they would slowly start more foreplay instead of just shagging.

"Oh ho, he speaks but just because you submitted doesn't mean our little game is over. Oh no. For us, this is just the beginning." Sherlock smirked down at John, bent down and righted the chair. He walked around and straddled his husband once more. "You see, I have plans for us my friend. Wondrous plans." He brought the riding crop up to John's cheek firmly. "You could stay with me. You obviously aren't well off, I would feed you. Clothe you, shelter you. And all ask is that you remain subservient to me. We do everything, _my_ way. I promise, it will be just as fun for you." He pressed their foreheads together so he could breathe hot air onto his husband's face. Was this too much? God, he couldn't stop himself. He brought his free hand to John's other cheek to stroke it lovingly. "We could have so much fun together, you and I." For emphasis he pressed his erection against his husband's stomach, unable to stop the small moan escaping his lips.

Sherlock's words were sending shivers through his body, his eyes wide was he tried to pull away. "Stay here with you and be some sort of sex slave?" He laughed a bit, freezing the moment he felt his husband's erection. God, he was so hard. "I am not going to stay here and let you tie me to things to relieve your sexual frustrations," he muttered as he tried to pull away from Sherlock's touch and the riding crop. "Sod off, mate. I'm not into that." He smirked up at Sherlock and lifted his hips, pressing his erection against him roughly.

"Slave would imply holding you against your will. Think of it as being my pet. Or if you don't like animals, you could consider yourself a sex toy. For my pleasure only of course." Sherlock grabbed John's chin and held it firmly in place in front of him. "Really? Are you sure? This coming from a guy who mouth fucked a riding crop?" Another moan as John rocked into him. "You also seem to enjoy rolling into me. I'm not complaining mind you but apparently you haven't submitted like I had thought. Pity..." He let go his husband's chin and got up off him. He moved the scarf back around John's mouth, and placed the chair back on the floor. "Guess I get to have tea after all."


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note:

The last chapter in this story! Thank you so much to everyone who read this and/or reviewed! Ending note like usual to direct you to the next story in the series.

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Back to square one, apparently. Scarf in his mouth, chair on the floor. John shifted and grunted, narrowing his eyes. All he wanted was that riding crop. God, he wanted red marks all over his body. What had happened to him? He shifted the chair the best he could against the floor, running out of energy and going limp as he panted for breath. He could only do so much and now he had even lost the energy to fight. Maybe that would appeal to his husband. His eyes lifted tiredly, studying Sherlock as he lifted his hips into nothing and moaned softly.

With his back turned to John, Sherlock smirked. When he turned around though, he was looking down pensively at his husband. "Changed your mind then? Fickle one, aren't you? Are you ready to submit this time? Are you sure?" He moved the riding crop under John's chin to force his head to tilt back and look at him. "Just this one time. If you don't want to be my pet after I have had my way with you, I will let you go. But _only_ if you submit completely. You are _mine_, do you understand?" God, he was being a cocky possessive dick. He hadn't meant for it to get this far, but he couldn't seem to stop the words coming out of his mouth. So far though John had been putting up with and it made him love his husband all the more.

John exhaled shakily through his nose and wiggled in the chair. Submit. He had done it more than enough with his husband so now shouldn't be any different. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears and his heart beating faster than normal as he slowly nodded his head. It would pay off in the end and he was excited about that. The aggressive streak in him was fighting though. If he could save it for later then he might be able to assert some dominance. Right now though he wanted that riding crop. He lowered his chin and pinned the object to his chest with a glint in his eyes.

"Hmm. I doubt your commitment to be a good boy. You already lied once. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Sherlock yanked the riding crop out from under John's chin. "What are we going to do about this little dilemma?" He moved around the chair and straddled his husband's chest. He rubbed his erection against John's shirt roughly. The friction from his pants made him moan. "I guess I will just leave you like this while I do what I want. That way you aren't tempted to fight anything."

Being used shouldn't have been so bloody arousing but John couldn't help but throw his head back and shout through the scarf at the feeling of his husband's erection against his chest. God, it was close to his mouth. He lifted his head, his entire body tensing at the effort, and locked his gaze on the bulge in Sherlock's pants. His legs tensed and he growled when he remembered they were still tied up. Fuck. This was wonderful. His body arched off the chair in am attempt to rock Sherlock forward.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Submitting means you do _nothing_. You don't move unless I say so." He sighed dramatically and shook his head. "I thought we could make this work, but clearly it isn't going to. It is shame really, I had so many plans for us." He sighed loudly a second time and stood up. He towered above his husband, a foot on the bottom rung to hold it in place should John try to move it again. The riding crop came down on his leg with a 'thwacking' noise from the sudden impact.

John let out a loud shout, thankful that the scarf was in his mouth to muffle the noise. That felt fantastic and he was perfectly willing to fight the dominance if it meant getting hit again. He arched off the chair again with a moan, closing his eyes as he tensed his entire body to try and entice Sherlock.

"Well, it isn't any fun if you _want_ me to do." Sherlock threw the riding crop behind him, feigning disinterest. He wasn't sure which of them would break first. Would John ever actually submit? Just lay there and take whatever crazy thing he could think up? He found it unlikely and he couldn't decide if that aroused or disappointed him more. Focus. Should he just go ahead and give in? Because his erection was driving him bloody mad and he really wanted to do something about it.

John tensed every muscle in his body, his face turning red as he shouted as loud and long as he could through the scarf. After nearly a minute he relaxed, breathing hard with half-open eyes. Exhausted. He was tired, clearly giving in now. Submitting. This was Sherlock's fantasy anyway. Shouldn't he finally let his husband be in complete control? He was nearly limp now as he watched Sherlock.

Sherlock blinked as he came out his thoughts. He smirked as he watched John. "I hope you didn't wear yourself out too much, because we still have a lot to do before I untie you." The smirk got bigger as he swiftly retrieved the riding crop. "Since you have made we work so hard to get to this point, I will have to punish you first." He smacked the riding crop against his husband's side, letting the end trail along inside of John's pants and over the stomach.

John winced and then moaned, taking several deep breaths as he tried to wiggle in the chair a bit. Jesus, when did Sherlock get so fucking seductive and erotic? Or when had his sexual interests change? He screamed again as he kept his eyes locked on his husband. It was a bit more quiet this time, not as long, and he relaxed back into the chair.

"See? I told you would like it. You just needed some time to let it grow on you is all." His smirk returned. The riding crop exited John's pants and smacked his husband's other side. Sherlock dipped the riding crop into the pants again, but all the down this time so the end could tease the tip of his husband's cock. He twirled it in slow circles so it could tease the sensitive tip even more.

Another scream before John moaned loudly, his hips arching into the riding crop in several quick thrusts. Good. So good. Damn it, this could never end. There would be red marks all over his body by the end of this. He would sleep curled up to his husband and wake up without a voice. What else did Sherlock have planned? This was perfect so far. He let himself relax again and looked up at Sherlock, biting down harder on the scarf.

"Yeah, you like it. I don't know why you fought it so long. You could have been enjoying this a whole lot sooner." Sherlock smirked yet again. He stopped twirling the riding crop and as he pulled it out of John's pants, he let the end trail along the entire length of his husband's erection. He reached down and yanked the scarf down around John's neck. "Let's just see how obedient you have become shall we?" He put the riding crop to his husband's lips. "Suck on it. Like before," he commanded. Last time John had done had made him crazy aroused and just thinking about it made him moan softly.

This sudden aggression, everything that was going on, made John moan and whimper. He slowly opened his mouth, taking the riding crop into his mouth. That was him. That was all he could taste, _himself_. He took the riding crop as far into his mouth as he could manage before gagging, pulling back a bit and bobbing his head quickly.

Sherlock couldn't help but squirm as he watched John. Why was this so arousing to him? He let out a low, slow moan as he kept his eyes locked on his husband's mouth. He could feel his penis leaking into his underwear in his heightened excited state. Focus. Stay in character. "Good. You are learning. You have pleased me." He slowly withdrew the riding crop from the mouth, his lower lip quivering some as he bit down on it with a whimper.

Sherlock was definitely breaking down. That whimper, the body language. He took several deep breaths and licked his lips as he wiggled in the chair. His erection was obvious through his jeans and he was very sure that the entire front of his underwear were soaked. Jesus Christ. He couldn't say anything, could he? That would result in him being left tied to the chair. He eyed Sherlock with a bit of a smirk.

"You have even learned to keep your mouth shut. Impressive." Sherlock leaned down and finally righted the chair. "A reward for your good behavior. A pet indeed." He smirked as he straddled John. He wrapped his arms around his husband's neck, the riding crop flicking repeatedly but gently against John's back. He pressed his lips to his husband's neck, sucking loudly, roughly and biting it before he ran his tongue all the way up to John's ear. "Say you will stay and be my pet. I know you love this just as much as I do," he murmured into the ear and then began to nibble lightly on the lower lobe.

Wonderful. That mouth and the riding crop. John moaned shook with the force of holding his hips still. He couldn't move against his husband. That wouldn't end well. His head dropped back to expose more of his neck. Would that be okay? God he hoped so. Wait...wasn't he supposed to be talking? Saying something? He swallowed hard and opened his mouth. "Stay. Pet."

"Perfect." Sherlock practically purred the word in his excitement. "I am glad we have come to an understanding." His tongue ran along from the bottom of John's ear, down the neck, under the chin, back up the neck and to the other ear to lavish it with the same amount of attention as the other one. He lowered his arms, so they were now around his husband's waist. He slid the riding crop up John's shirt and began to scratch his partner's back with it. He pressed his erection against his husband tightly, roughly rubbing it against the fabric of his pants. He moaned into John's ear. "Imagine. Soon I will be inside of you. And you will be begging and screaming for more as I pound into you."

John moaned and gently turned his head. Could he kiss Sherlock? Suck on his neck? Fuck. These rules were hard to follow in his haze of arousal. Sod it. He turned his head and opened his mouth, gently sucking on his husband's neck. "Can I beg for more, Master? Will you let me?" He whispered desperately as he let his hips twitch upward for a moment.

Master? Good God. Sherlock was convinced he had the best husband ever. This was going far better than anything he had ever imagined. "Of course my Pet. Begging is always allowed. Your lips on my neck feel amazing and…" He trailed off with a whimpering moan. The scratching with the ridding crop faltered for a moment as he concentrated on the sucking. Key. Where was the bloody key? He didn't want to pull away from John to find it. This was just too fucking perfect right now. He thrust his hips roughly into the man below him with a moan, his lips finding his husband's shoulder and bit it hard enough to leave teeth marks as he growled his excitement.

Well, this was certainly turning out better than he had planned. John pulled away slowly from his husband's neck to breathe. "Master, please. My Master." He lifted his hips desperately and moaned, nearly shouting. "I want you to pound me into the couch. Or floor. Master, please use me." He closed his eyes let his hips thrust up again.

Oh God. Just hearing John beg, Sherlock was certain he would get off. It was hard to focus, think straight. "Need a k-key." Jesus. He couldn't even talk right in his haze of excitement. They would also need lubricant. No more waiting. He couldn't. He would go mad with desire, he was certain of it. He got off John, dropping the riding crop to the floor behind the chair. He fumbled hurriedly as he untied his husband's legs from the chair. He fiddled with the pants next, yanking them completely off along with the boxers with a little difficulty since John was sitting. He couldn't help himself and bent down to begin licking and sucking the tip of his husband's cock.

Everything happened so fast and by the time he opened his eyes Sherlock's mouth was on his cock. "Fuck..." John let the word drag out as he forced his hips to stay still. Key? Damn it. Where had the key been? He didn't remember grabbing it. "R-Room." He stumbled over the words and looked at Sherlock with a gasp. "Key... room," he muttered. This was nice but now he couldn't wait to have Sherlock pounding into him. He needed it more than he thought. "Fuck me into the couch," he growled.

Sherlock looked up at John, narrowing his eyes. "Come again? Begging is fine, but know your place Pet." He reached behind the chair and grabbed the riding crop again. He struck it against his husband's stomach. It would probably leave a mark. He let it trail down to John's cock, the tip of the riding crop once more running along the full length. "Now, ask me _nicely_." He smirked at John, eyes still slightly narrowed. Shit, it was hard to stay in character sometimes.

"Ah- nngh." John bit his bottom lip and narrowed his eyes. His stomach was stinging and the touch on his cock was soft and amazing. Right. He had been rude. "M-Master, please," he whimpered and lifted his legs, wrapping them around Sherlock's torso. "Master please fuck me into the couch. Please make me scream." He tightened his legs around his husband desperately. "Master," he whispered with a soft moan. He lifted his hips into the riding crop.

"Better," Sherlock cooed. His demeanor and tone of voice changing drastically, from just moments ago. He moaned and leaned into John, his erection pressing into his husband's thigh. He whimpered from the contact. Key. He still needed the damn key. He disentangled himself and practically ran to the bedroom, almost tripping over his own feet in excitement. He found it quickly enough and remembered to grab a bottle of lubricant. He didn't bother to check and see what kind. He came back to John, skidding to a halt in front of his husband. He smirked, spinning the key around. "Beg some more." The riding crop was still in his hand and he moved to it to dance along John's penis once more.

Alone. And then Sherlock again. He had said something but John had missed it because, _Jesus_, the riding crop was on his cock. What was he supposed to do? Damn it. "Master..." He opened his eyes, wide and locked intently on Sherlock. "Master, please. I want your cock inside of me. I want you, please Master..." He pressed his hips up against the riding crop.

"Damn right you do." Sherlock leaned around John and undid one cuff. He then tugged at his husband's shirt and dragged him over to the couch. "Take your shirt off and lay down," he demanded. He placed the items in his hands on the table by the couch and began to disrobe quickly until he was naked. He picked up the lubricant and slicked himself down first, a small moan escaping him. His cock was rock hard and throbbing, juices oozing out at the end still.

John was shaky on his feet but managed to pull his shirt off, revealing the first red mark across his stomach from the riding crop. The handcuffs clinked on his one wrist as he finally got the shirt off and let it fall to the ground. Sherlock was naked and stroking himself. Quite the view. After a moment of admiring the view he glanced at the couch. He laid down on his side before settling on his back. Sherlock hadn't specified so he had guessed, glancing down at his cock curiously. Definitely hard. God, he wanted Sherlock to hurry up.

Once Sherlock was ready he straddled John. He added more lubricant to his hand and prepped his husband, shoving two fingers in a little roughly. He moaned at the feeling and continued to slide his fingers in and out, quickly. He put the lubricant down and picked up the riding crop. He moaned loudly as soon as he entered John. "Already feeling wonderful my Pet." He started out with a moderate and steady rhythm, the riding crop reaching between them so it could stroke up and down his husband's cock.

"Fuck," John shouted and threw his head back, the tendons in his neck stretching against his skin. Good. But...could he ask for more? The riding crop was good, he liked it and it was erotic. "Master. Harder. Please Master. I don't want to walk after this." He reached a hand up and scratched at his husband's arm as rough as he manage. A quick sign of dominance in the moment would be all right, wouldn't it?

Sherlock smirked and then moaned from the scratching. "Scratch me harder and maybe I will grant your wish Pet." It took considerable effort and control to not comply with John's request immediately. He had come this far, he could do this. He maintained the same pace, moaning again. The hand with the riding crop began flicking the object against his husband's penis lightly all along it. The other hand reached up to pull at any hair that may be long for his fingers to curl around.

That was the riding crop _hitting_ his cock. That had to be the most wonderful feeling in the world. John could hardly focus on what was going on but his hand tightened on Sherlock's arm and he let it scratch down the skin. There were red marks and...and blood. God, had he done that? His hips jerked in response to the small hits from the riding crop before and the pulling of his hair. "Master," he shouted as loud as he could manage.

Sherlock growled in response, the hand pulling at the hair tugging even harder. The riding crop began smacking John's cock a little bit harder, as well. He leaned down, his mouth finding the middle of his husband's chest and he began to suck on it harshly. The thrusts became hard, fast, and desperate. He moaned loudly into John's skin, biting down into it with another growl of excitement.

John shouted, not sure which sensation to focus on. Sherlock was inside of him, rough and fast and hard. That mouth was biting him in the most wonderful way and his head was tilted to the side as his husband pulled his hair. But the riding crop. Jesus, the riding crop. He scratched Sherlock's other bicep, pride rushing through his body at the sight of more blood. "Fuck, Sherlock," he panted for breath and groaned when he realized he had just broken character. "M-Master," he corrected himself and shouted again.

Sherlock smirked into John's chest, and then began sucking on the bite marks he had left imprinted on his husband's skin. Everything was feeling amazing and he had been hard for so long. He came with a loud moan, and he forced himself to stay up so he could finish off John. He was panting for breath, sweat glistening on his body from the vigorous work out. Would he be able to get his husband off with the riding crop? John seemed to be enjoying it and decided to see if he could. He continued the smacks along his husband's cock, careful not to hit too hard.

The moment John felt Sherlock reach his climax he relaxed, his head dropped back as he smiled. That had been...amazing. And apparently this wasn't finished. He looked between them and studied the riding crop curiously. Would it be possible to get off? After several more hits he tensed, coming across his stomach and chest with a bit of a blush. "God. Oh, fuck... Sherlock," he groaned and finally fell limp against the couch. His hands fell on to the couch, little bits of blood from his fingerprints smearing across the cushion beneath him. "Good. Like being your pet," he muttered.

When John climaxed, Sherlock collapsed next to his husband immediately. "That…" He trailed off, still panting. He swallowed a few gulps of air and tried again. "That…that was amazing…can we make that thing we do every once in awhile? Jesus. Was the riding crop really that good? Might have to let you try it out on me sometime." He lifted his head to smirk up at John.

"Yeah," John said weakly, his head moving slightly to the side so he could look at his husband. "Think Mrs. Hudson has ice in her flat? Might need a bag for my shoulder," he muttered with a tired smile. "Sorry 'bout your arms," he whispered as an afterthought. Damn was he sore. Tired. That had been the most intense shag they had shared in a while, especially considering the fact that Thomas or Amy constantly interrupted them since they had gotten back from the island. "Planned this for ages. Had Mrs. Hudson take the kids somewhere. She just smirked." He let his eyes close slowly.

"She might. I would say I am too tired and sore to move, but I imagine you are feeling it a bit more than I am Love after the rough shagging and being beaten with a riding crop. So, I pretty much just made everything as it went and I think that worked out well." Sherlock smirked again and got up off the couch shakily. "I will go see if she has ice."

John frowned a bit. The moment Sherlock stood up he missed the warmth, wanted him right back by his side. He reached out his hand and grabbed his husband's, giving it a slight tug so Sherlock would fall back on the couch. "'S fine. Like you here better," he said softly with a smile. "Come back and lay with me. I will live without the ice for a bit." He smiled lazily and tugged Sherlock's hand again. "I think we will do that again sometime."

Sherlock snuggled back into John immediately. "How much longer until the children come home? We probably shouldn't be naked when they get back. Well, little Sandi won't notice but fuck, Thomas will asks us questions about everything. It is good he' so inquisitive…I guess…it means he wants to learn about the world around him but the boy never shuts up. Sorry Love, not trying to complain. I just never realized how stressful being a father could be is at times." He leaned up and gave his husband a quick kiss. "I love you."

John laughed almost instantly, looking over at his husband with a small grin. "Oi, that was quite the little speech," he muttered as he wrapped an arm protectively around his husband. "He is a boy, most boys are like that. Especially at his age. Once we get him enrolled in school we should be a bit better off. He will be learning a lot of new things," he whispered before turning his head to look at the clock in the room. "Mrs. Hudson said she was taking them out for dinner so we have still got about two hours before they come back. Wouldn't mind staying naked with you, though." He rolled slightly so their bodies were pressed together. "I love you, too. Don't you ever forget that," he whispered before giving his husband a slow kiss.

Sherlock was about to reply but John was kissing him and that was far more interesting than talking about the kids. They hadn't had a chance to snog, much less shag since he had come home from the hospital and he was going to take advantage of this moment because he didn't know when he would get the chance again.

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Ending Note:

The next story takes place about two and half years later. Sherlock and John discover that raising two children isn't as easy as they thought it would be. Mostly drama and angst so far. Some fluff and a bit of sexy Johnlock. The new story will probably be posted tomorrow. I'm not sure how long it will be. The name of the new story is Love, Life and Family.


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